A Rose Named Fiore
by adrine R.227
Summary: Fiorella and her family live in the holy inner sanctum of Rome; the Vatican. Local nobles are starting to get attacked, as Fiorella witnesses one of the attacks, she is soon thrown from a world of delicate politics to the blunt reality of the Assassins.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! This little story here is just something that popped into my head, and well I thought I should write it down. It takes place in the vattican mostly, some of the ruins form in the game. It's a little after Ezio's time in Rome. The characters are the children of his assassin recruits. I don't own Assassin's Creed! niehter do I own the last name Abette! Well that's it mostly. Review please!**

**~Ciao!**

"Fiorella!" Signore Abette shouted down the halls of the family villa. Fiorella sighed and put her quill down.

"Coming papa!" Hastily putting away her writing things and scurried down the hall to her father's study.

"Ah, there you are my child. Signore Gianfo is here to see you. He wishes to accompany you to an art exhibition this afternoon. I think you should accept." Signore Abette sat at his desk, looking up from his work only when his daughter came in. Around him were various papers of various importance and the odd quill or two was scattered here and there.

Fiorella smiled. Her father was often scatterbrained. He had a lot on his mind what with his work for the pope.

"It would be my honor papa." Fiorella wasn't exactly attracted to Severnio Gianfo the way her father wanted her to be. He was a few years older than Fiorella, and was by no means unappealing, it was just that Fiorella was interested in…other things. Severnio was a nice man who liked her for who she was. He knew her well and they were good friends considering Fiorella had explicitly told him all she wanted was his friendship. They often went on outings together to appease Fiorella's father.

"Excellent! And by the way, have you two made any progress? All I hear is 'Papa I don't want to rush it' and 'Papa we'll get there!' No news of engagement or love or anything! Is everything all right?" This time, Signore Abette looked up from one of his important papers.

Fiorella sighed. _I seem to be doing that a lot lately… _Fiorella thought. "Yes papa. We are quite fine. In fact… um…" Fiorella struggled to find something positive to say about her non-existent romantic relationship. "Severnio… asked me to go to… the Pope's Midsummer Ball! Yes, yes, that's what he asked me alright!" Fiorella blushed severely, and hoped her father wouldn't notice her cover up.

"Oh that's wonderful!" Her father's voice was slightly muffled by the papers he was so close to.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I shall pay him a visit. Right now!" Fiorella needed a reason to get out of the house, and she needed to tell Severnio about her sudden want to go to the ball.

"Alright darling. Be back before diner or else your mother shall give you a good talking to." Signore Abette's voice was lost to Fiorella's ears as she raced back to her room to grab her cloak. She hesitated by her window, which over looked the Vatican, the holy inner sanctum of Rome where she not only had the chance to reside, but where the revered pope dwelled. _I am so lucky that papa has the job of Minister of Finance; otherwise I would not be so blessed._

Fiorella moved to her mirror to pin back a stray of her brunette hair and smooth down her collar before dashing down the stairs and out the door to the streets to meet her friend.

"Hey, Fiore, how's that mother of yours?" A vendor across the street yelled.

"She is doing fine Rilando! Thank you for asking." Fiorella smiled, giving a small wave before she set off to the Gianfo residence.

After a few blocks, she came to the most prominent villa on the streets of the Vatican, beautifully decorated with Greek statues and winding vines, Fiorella had always admired the work of the gardener, and of course, Mrs. Gianfo's taste. Fiorella dashed up the marble steps to the grand doorway, and knocked three times. After a few moments, a maidservant came, respectfully showing Fiorella in and offering her a drink, which she gracefully declined. Fiorella had no taste for any sort of alcohol, but rather preferred the simple flavor of coffee, a new beverage introduced to the Italian country from the Turks. Fiorella milled about in the foyer, awaiting her best friend and admiring the décor when a voice said from behind her;

"I thought we were just friends Fiorella, but now you come rushing into my arms whenever you have the chance? My my, I didn't know I had such charm!" Severnio appeared form an archway a few feet away. He had a broad smile on his handsome face that managed to reach his green eyes. He wore a loose, white shirt, trousers and brown boots.

"Severnio! Do not tease me so, for I shall leave and never come back! And you would not want that, now would you?" She joked. Severnio laughed.

"Of course not my darling. Now, what brings you so suddenly and might I add, unexpectedly, here?" Severnio gestured to a pair of couches sitting in the rays of sunlight streaming in through a window. Fiorella sat down, gathering her skirts around her.

"Well, papa asked about us. And how we were doing." Fiorella grinned in apology as Severnio groaned. He knew where this was going. "So, at first I had no idea what to tell him. Don't worry; he knows naught of what really goes on betwixt us. I told him instead that you asked me to the Pope's Midsummer Ball." Severino perked up at the mention of the ball.

"Really? And what did he say?" Severnio relaxed minutely.

"He was quite pleased. So now, you have to take me to the ball." Fiorella blushed.

"Well m'lady, it would be a pleasure to escort you to such an event." Severnio grinned wickedly, as though he had something else in mind. "I was going to ask you to go anyway, but, I was hoping this time we could go as a real couple?" Severnio suggested. Fiorella smiled.

"I am truly sorry, but not this time. Now come, I do believe we have an art gala to attend?" Fiorella giggled.

"Fine. But I get to hold your hand in public!" Severnio stuck his tongue out playfully and Fiorella huffed.

"Fine." She repeated, "But only to keep up appearances!" She warned.

"Of course. Only to keep up appearances." Severnio bowed out of the room, his long, curly blond locks falling into his eyes. As he bowed, Fiorella noticed that the top of his shirt was slightly unlaced, leaving a bit of his chest visible. Fiorella blushed even more furiously than before, and quickly looked away.

Soon Severnio returned, this time with a fine embroidered vest over his shirt and a thick leather belt on.

"Shall we depart?" Severnio held out his arm and Fiorella grudgingly accepted it. They strolled through the streets. Enjoying the beautiful weather and commenting on this and that, Firoella contemplated about the future.

If she could not find someone who she really loved and loved her back, who would she marry? Would she marry at all? She knew her father would be deeply disappointed if she could not stay with Severnio, but she wanted to be with a man of her choice, she could not just wed the first man her father set her up with, even if he was the son of a family friend and well prepared to care for her.

_But I have little choice. If I did marry Severnio, I could be happy. Maybe I could learn to love him, in time…_ Thoughts raced through her head, and she became quiet. Severnio noticed her lack of attention and smiled gently. He understood that she had much to think about, he too had much to consider. But both of their thoughts would have to be interrupted as the sounds and sights of the gala reached them.

Fiorella Looked up and glanced at Severnio. He had a distant look to his eyes, but when he heard the bidders shouting out prices for the artwork, he soon came to.

"Well then, shall we see what culture has in store for us today?" Severnio asked, grinning stupidly at Fiorella. In response she merely giggled.

The square was filled with people of all sorts buying and selling assorted pieces of artwork form sculptures to original paintings to jewelry. One man in particular stood out against the crowd. Tall and broad shouldered he wore magnificent robes of fine burgundy silk, leaden with jewels and expensive embroidery. Atop his head sat a feathered hat that sagged slightly with the weight of the peacock feathers. He stood at a stall, conversing with the vendor in a low tone. The vendor's face was livid with rage, but the man remained cool and calculated.

As Fiorella and Severnio passed by, she could hear snippets of the conversation;

"…outrageous! Never have I been offered such a low price and never shall I stoop so low! Giovanni Gratello's work is nothing but the finest and should be bought as so!" The vendor's face reddened as he yelled at the man. The man stood, looking impatiently at the vendor.

"Are you quite done now? I would like to bring my recently purchased painting home." When he spoke, his voice was deep and authorative. The man reached into his fine robes and procured a small bag of coins.

"WHAT? I have just told you, my work shall not be bought for nothing more than pennies, or are you deaf?" The vendor threw his hands into the air and continued ranting. The man looked at the vendor and smiled. From a small leather scabbard on his belt, he drew a small, glittering blade.

"Actually, I think it's quite enough," The man shoved the blade against the vendor's throat, his eyes gleaming menacingly. The vendor gulped visibly. "Don't you agree?"

"Er…. What was I saying earlier, of course, such a-generous offer." The vendor smiled sheepishly and pocketed the money.

"Good." The man sheathed the blade, returning it to his belt. Fiorella shivered and drew closer to Severnio.

"Giancarlo Aturatelli. Not a man you should mess with. He's been getting more powerful around here." Severnio looked at the man with a disapproving expression

"But why would he pull a blade on an innocent man like that? I just don't understand! Couldn't they just bargain?" Fiorella pulled her cloak tight around her and glanced back to Giancarlo. He had moved on to look at other pieces but seemed to be offering civilized prices. No one else seemed to have seen what had just happened.

"Because he didn't want to. Men with power like that don't have to bargain, they just threaten those with something they want." Severnio turned around to face Fiorella, and gripped her shoulders. Fiorella had a frightened look on her face. "Promise me you'll never talk to a man like that." He asked her, looking her in the eye, his expression intense.

"But I-," Fiorella began, but was cut off by Severnio.

"Just-just promise me okay? I don't want you getting hurt." Severnio dropped his gaze, staring at the flagstones beneath them.

"Okay." Fiorella murmured, startled by his sudden request. Severnio sighed, moving back to Fiorella's side.

"Now that all that is done, shall we look at some new jewelry for you?" Severnio had regained his composure, and smiled. Fiorella gulped and simply nodded.

The pair moved from stall to stall, chatting about the quality of paintings and upcoming artists. Fiorella noticed a pair of ruby earrings that caught her eye and quickly went to further examine them, Severnio not far behind. _They're so beautiful, oh, but look at the price; it is too much for me, I only brought a small bag of coins certainly not enough._ Fiorella thought. She put the earrings back down and turned to leave, but Severnio caught her.

"Would milady like the earrings?" Severnio handed the grimy merchant the right amount and handed the earrings to Fiorella. She gasped and smiled to Severnio.

"My friend, it was not necessary. Such a beautiful and extravagant gift!" She looked from the earrings to Severnio, and then flung her arms around him in thanks.

"It is my pleasure. You deserve things like this." Severnio chuckled. Fiorella released her grasp around him and gave him a mock reproachful look.

"Do not think this will get you on my good side Signore Gianfo!" She scolded him, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Of course not, why would I expect that? 'Twas merely a little bauble for a friend." Severnio put his hands up in defense. Fiorella giggled and shoved him playfully.

"ASSASSINO!" A woman cried out. Instantly, chaos ensued. People went running in different directions, vendors and merchants began packing away their wares, and everyone was screaming.

"Guards get him!" Giancarlo shouted. A tall man dressed in a black cape and boots jumped from a nearby rooftop. Landing a few feet from where Fiorella stood stunned. He looked up from his crouched position and grinned to her, giving her a wink. She merely stood there, earrings still in her hands, staring at the young man.

The assassin dashed forward and met Giancarlo's guards with ferocity, dodging and blocking attacks as he went.

"Fiorella! Run, get out of here!" Severnio shouted to her over the din, but his words were lost on her ears. "Fiorella? Fiorella!" He grabbed her hand, jolting her from her shocked state and dashed to an alley way where they could depart for the safety of the Gianfo villa. But in her mad haste, the woman who had warned everyone ran in between them, separating the two. More exiting townspeople filled the gap that the woman had made, and soon Fiorella could not see Severnio.

"Fiorella!" Severnio cried, desperately trying to catch sight of his friend. He jumped onto an abandoned table, trying to search for the familiar head of brunette hair, but so many other women looked just like her.

"Severnio, Severnio!" Fiorella screeched, determined to get back to her friend. She soon spotted him atop a table amidst the chaos, and called out to him, waving her hand above her head, and cupping her other hand around her mouth to try and make herself louder.

"Severnio?" But it was no use, he couldn't see her, and soon he gave up, a dejected look on his face as he got off of the table, hopeful that Fiorella would return to the Gianfo villa and meet up with him later.

"Severnio!" Fiorella scolded. She felt stung by his lack of determination but was soon distracted when the fighting came closer to her.

The assassin had downed three of the guards already and was currently fighting two more. One of the guards swung at him with a heavy sword. The assassin ducked, and punched him in the gut. The guard winced, making a gurgling sound, lowering the blade, which nicked his partner in the knee. The other guard screeched in pain, hissing insults at both the assassin and the other guard.

"Heh, fools." Fiorella though she heard the assassin say. The assassin went in for the kill on the guard with the injured knee, but eh guard who had been punched in the stomach had regained his composure and swung the sword again, this time making contact with the assassin's shoulder.

The young man reeled back, and gripped his shoulder. He removed his hand and looked at it; it was bright red, and the clothing around his shoulder had begun to darken as the blood soaked his shirt and cloak. Grimacing from the wound, he took out two, thin knives from his belt. He flung one at the guard with the sword. It lodged, embedded deep in his throat, and the guard made a gurgling sound as he went down, crimson flowing from his mouth. Now just the guard with the injured knee was left.

Fiorella gasped. She had just seen someone killed. What if the man had family? A wife and kids to look after? What if he had yet to experience the joys of life? Now he would never get the chance, his life ended by the hands of the assassin. And what was keeping the assassin from Fiorella? Absolutely nothing. She scrambled backwards, eager to get away from the killing, but when she felt her back bump up against a wall, she turned, and saw she had backed herself up in a corner, with the assassin and remaining guard dancing ever closer.

She gulped and closed her eyes, praying that somehow the men would miss her. Leave her alone so that she might live another day.

Fiorella could see that the guard was scared, this assassin, this man had just murdered the rest of his squad in cold blood. But he pressed on, hoping against fate that he could somehow overcome the assassin.

The assassin grinned and lunged forward, his remaining throwing knife, in the space between his middle and ring finger. The guard swiped madly with his pike, managing to dislodge the knife from the assassin's grasp. Realizing that the assassin was now defenseless, his sword and knives now lay on the ground a few feet from the guard, the guard grinned in anticipation, pushing the assassin back into Fiorella's corner.

Fiorella went rigid with fright. When the guard swung to make the death blow, it could possibly hit her as well. She knew the neither the guard nor the assassin would care for her life; they were both so bent on destroying the other.

The guard continued slashing at the assassin, and managed to get a few more scrapes in. Soon the assassin was merely inches away from Fiorella. She whimpered, fearing these would be her last moments. The assassin heard the noise and turned briefly to her. The guard took advantage of his moment of distraction and swung the pike towards his head. The assassin swerved with the direction of the blade, dodging its edge by centimeters.

But the blade was satisfied in its hunt for blood, for as the assassin moved, it cut into Fiorella's cheek, leaving a deep gash that instantly oozed blood. She cried out in pain and dropped to her feet. Holding her hand to the cut, she brought out her handkerchief to stem the flow. Tears threatened to spill over, and Fiorella bit her lip to keep from crying out.

_Why must men be so savage? If I die here, please keep mama, papa, and sister well Lord. _Fiorella thought.

The assassins realized his folly and returned to his attack with renewed ferocity, grabbing a dagger concealed in his boot. The guard was surprised by his sudden attack and was not prepared for the assassin's sudden onslaught. But nonetheless he fought back, parrying the assassin's blows skillfully. One of the shots went wide and threatened to hit Fiorella again, but the assassin managed to block the jab.

"Run….g-get out of here!" The assassin gasped out. They were the same words that Severnio had shouted to her before they had been separated. Fiorella was shocked, mainly because the assassin cared if she lived or died, but also because he had the nerve to speak to her after everything that had happened.

"I said run!" The assassin yelled. This time Fiorella obeyed, slipping past the assassin and towards the crowd where she could disappear. But the guard grabbed her hand and swung her into him, bringing the edge of the pike to her throat.

"Not so fast my sweet!" The guard ground out. Fiorella gagged and turned away from the blade, the guard's stink getting to her.

"Let her go, she's done nothing." The assassin demanded, his onyx eyes glinting under his hood.

"Only if you surrender!" The guard gave an ultimatum.

"Okay, fine. See if I care if she dies." The assassin straightened, and returned his dagger to his boot. Fiorella felt her heart sink. How could he so suddenly not care for her if he just told her to run?

Bemused at the sudden turn of events, the guard loosened his grip on Fiorella. She took the chance and elbowed him in the gut, the breath whooshing out of him with an "Oof!" She danced away, stopping a few feet away, still entranced by the action

The assassin ran and jumped, unsheathing a hidden blade from his bracers. He landed on the guard, toppling him backwards and jabbed the blade into his throat, ending yet another life. He retracted the blade and stood up. He wobbled slightly as he looked around for his original target, Signore Aturatelli, but he was long gone. Suddenly he gasped had clutched at his injured shoulder. He glanced back up to Fiorella, looking at her frightened expression a moment before he dashed away to nurse hid injuries that he might fight another day.

The square was silent a moment before the crowd burst out into chatter about the recent events. Most of the screaming had subsided, but the place was still in chaos. Thoughts flew through Fiorella's head as she watched the receding figure of the assassin. Then, she made a rash, on the spot decision.

She followed him.

Fiorella raced after the assassin determined to find him. She wanted to thank the man for saving her and help treat his wounds, after all it was the least she could do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi all! I'm so sorry that this has taken forever. Things have been super crazy. But it's here now. So yay. I completely understand if you want to kill me, heck I would too, but It's here and done and if you kill me then there really won't be anymore chapters, si? so anyway, along with the story. Love ya all! oh and Disclaimer: I no own Assassin's Creed or anything affiliated with it**.

Fiorella could barely keep up with the darkly clad figure ahead of her. He kept weaving in and out of the crowds, determined to get where he was going.

_This man is injured and I can't keep up with him? Either he's really fast or I'm getting out of shape! _Fiorella thought to herself. The assassin got to the bridge that connected the Vatican with the rest of Rome and halted. On the bridge were dozens of papal guards, who had all been alerted to the attack earlier. Their red and silver armour glinted in the sunlight, and flags tied to their heavy pike-staves streamed in the breeze. There was no way he could get over that bridge without alerting the guards

Fiorella sighed in relief, maybe now she could catch up to him and thank him for his bravery. But not even the bridge full of guards could deter an assassin. The young man jolted to the left and jumped onto the bridge wall, where he hovered for a second then continued his descent down. The water made a small splash as he jumped in.

_How am I to follow him now? Never mind catching up with him._ Fiorella thought dejectedly. But when she looked down to the water she noticed his path was fairly straight, so she followed him across the bridge, the guards paying little attention to her.

When they both finally made it across, the assassin leapt up to a small dock, some distance away. Fiorella raced to an alleyway that the dock met up with and noticed the drenched assassin slogging his way into another alleyway opposite the one she was currently in. She hurried after him, surprised that he had made it this far without fainting.

The assassin wove in and out between crowds and groups of people, keeping to back roads and alleyways. He frequently turned around and doubled back on his path to throw off the silly little girl he had saved earlier. Why someone would want to follow him after something like that, he didn't know.

_Unless she works for them…_ the thought crossed the assassin's mind. But soon the pain and the dull throbbing at the front of his head brought him back. The assassin made one last side trip, even though he really didn't need to, he just wanted to make sure the girl wasn't still on his tail. Turning on to a familiar street he walked until he reached a scruffy door set far back into the wall of the row of shabby houses. He pushed it open, and entered the skinny courtyard. The door swung lazily shut behind him, making a clanging noise. All around the courtyard were plants; potted plants, hedges, flowers, trees, vegetables, and fruits. The plants were always green and thriving, but the assassin could never guess how the owner of the courtyard kept them that way. Very little sunlight reached the courtyard through the encroaching walls of the nearby structures.

The alleyway was a little known place to most, it wasn't a private or residential courtyard, merely a space converted into a beautiful garden by the local convent. They kept the door to the alleyway closed to simply keep it a quiet and secluded spot. The assassin often saw monks here as he passed through and they were always nice to him. No one was here currently. Even better. The assassin liked it here. A respite from the brutality of the real world. He walked down and around the path, viewing the flora and its beauty. Just as he was nearing the exit, he heard the door creaking open. Instantly, his training took over and he flattened himself against the wall, into the shadows. A small head poked its way into the garden as Fiorella entered.

Fiorella looked around. It was a beautiful place, quiet and tucked away. There were many plants spiraling up columns and creeping up trellises. When Fiorella fully entered, shutting the door gently, despite its wailing, she saw there were no residential doors, and she decided the space was merely a beautifully well taken care of alley way. She knew some of the alleys in the Vatican were like this. Enthusiastic bureaucrats who loved to garden would turn small public spaces into beautiful gardens, so she was not surprised. Fiorella walked slowly, enjoying the peace and serenity. The alleyway was dark and cool, a change from the heat and light of the previous street. She thought she had seen the assassin walk in here, but she could not be certain, for there were so many other places he could have gone. But nonetheless, she could at least enjoy this while it lasted.

When she finally reached the end of the corridor of foliage, she pushed open a gate, which opened up to a bustling city street. More merchants and citizens crowded the pathway, and bright sunlight stung at her eyes. Dismayed that she could not find the man who saved her life, she pressed on, out into the street.

The assassin watched from above as the girl strode into the garden. When she had turned around to close the door behind her, he had had just enough time to scramble up a nearby trellis and onto the roof. She took her time, looking at the flowers and assortment of vegetation. Curious, he watched her slightly longer. This girl, this child had followed him all the way here. She had done well, considering she was a woman. But why? She obviously wasn't a courtesan asking him for help. Too well dressed. She wasn't a thief; she lived in the Vatican. She couldn't be a spy for the Borgia, like he had thought earlier, because she was too innocent. What kind of spy would slow down to smell the flowers? _… A good one,_ The assassin answered his own question. Hurriedly he jumped onto an adjacent roof and scuttled down a window and on to the awning of a blacksmith below, eager to make room between him and the spy. His wound panged at him, but he ignored it. He could fix it when he was back at Gratello's. He jumped from the awning onto the cobbled street below him, startling the blacksmith's customers.

"I've never seen a stranger man, truly!" One in particular said. The other townspeople muttered their assent.

This made the assassin laugh. People never truly understood his kind. What they said about him was naught but incompetence. He raced away, the sun bright in his eyes, and turned another corner, towards the ruins.

Fiorella did a double take when she thought she could see the assassin running down the street, townspeople jumping out of his way. _I guess he was nearby after all._ Fiorella thought. Fiorella pushed her way through the throng of people, intent on keep ing the assassin in her line of sight. Thankfully he slowed down when he reached a particularly crowded area.

There were merchant stalls with various wares and goods displayed to customers scattered over the area, and the assassin saw no quicker way out of this mess than to dash through the merchant's stalls. He only took this course of action in extreme and rare times, but he considered this one of those.

He ran to the nearest one and rolled onto the table, crushing pottery and throwing jewelry on to the ground. He quickly recovered and ran into the crowd again. He smiled; knowing that there was no way the girl could follow him through that, no matter how good she was.

_How ingenious!_ He thought. _For the Borgia to use a mere girl as a spy? It is low, but clever. No one would suspect a twit like her!_

Fiorella heard the crash as pottery shattered against the ground. She whipped around to where the noise was and saw a stunned merchant without any merchandise left, and a sodden, black clad figure, deftly dodging pedestrians heading in a south-east direction. Towards the ruins. _So that's where he's headed. The home of thieves and bandits. I suppose it makes sense._ Fiorella thought, hoping that by taking a different route that had the same general direction, she could possibly intercept him.

Fiorella scanned the crowd, and spotted an opening a few yards away. She dashed towards it, only to find a well blocking her path. She cursed her luck, sure that the assassin had gotten away using the time from her folly. She turned around, back the way she had come and tried to following the path the assassin had used. She had a little luck. People here were still stunned from his antics, that they cared little when Fiorella came dashing through, and she easily pushed them away.

Fiorella rushed to the edge of the crowd. There she saw the edge of the square where it dropped off to a lower level of the city. To the left were a set of stairs leading down to the level, and directly ahead of her was the assassin, jumping over the low brisk wall and down to the lower level. Spread out before Fiorella were the ancient Roman ruins, the echoes of a glistening empire that once dwelled here. Most of the structures had been well built, so many of them stood mainly intact, but ancient secret passageways and crumbling buildings were traps for the unwary; making it the perfect spot for street-rats and those who worked in the night. The upper-class of Rome often called it the sewer because of the people associated with the place. Fiorella had once agreed with them, keeping to her beautifully cultivated gardens in a life of sheltered wealth.

Ignoring the nagging feeling in her gut that told her this wasn't a place where she would be welcome, Fiorella trudged on. The sun had gone down considerably since she had dashed off looking for the assassin. Then it had been high noon, now, it was almost evening. Fiorella shuddered. Some from the growing chill, but mostly because she was scared of what could happen to her here.

The assassin wove in and out in an intricate pattern, going to a specific spot. He climbed up the side of an old building, to the top of one of the broken walls. From there he jumped onto a broken column, and then onto a tree branch. He swung back and forth a little on the branch and used his momentum to propel him forward, into a set of small, crumbling former residencies.

Fiorella knew she'd never be able to follow him up there, so she skirted around the edge of the tree and to the house he had dashed into. She turned the corner and bumped into something soft and hard. She looked up into the face of a grinning thief.

"'ello pretty one, what're yew doing 'ere?" The thief smelled bad, and had gaps in his evil smile. Fiorella backed up, hoping that she could make a run for it and never come back to this vile place. _It was a mistake to follow a random stranger to this place!_ She thought. _No matter if he saved me or not._

"I- uh….I."Fiorella stuttered, not sure how to handle the frightening situation.

"Well,looks like I'ma hafta take care of youse fer now." The bandit grimaced, sending waves of horrendous breath Fiorella's way. He closed in on the girl, raising a ragged knife to his lips, he licked the blade. Fiorella kept backing up, feeling along the wall beside her until she came to a bump in a corner. She had no where left to hide, nowhere left to run. _Oh please Lord, save me! _Fiorella cried out.

"P-puh-please, don't-." But she was cut off by a strong voice from behind the thief.

"Back down Rogento, you shouldn't mess with her." The thief and Fiorella looked to see who had spoken, and she was quite relieved to find it was the assassin from earlier. She sighed, and slowly slid down the wall, too much in shock from her near death experience. The thief grunted, looking displeased, but lumbered away into the shadows nonetheless. The assassin turned to leave, but Fiorella protested.

"No, wait, don't go!" The assassin stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around to face her. A slow rain started to fall, dampening the two. Fiorella looked up, and saw that the clouds were threatening to turn into a larger storm.

"Look, girl, I've saved your life twice. You should be grateful. Just…leave." The assassin stopped towards the end of his sentence, grimacing from the pain.

"But,….I wanted to thank you." Fiorella reached out with one hand, like she wanted to touch his arm and turn him around to face her, but she drew it back in.

"You just did. Now _leave._" The assassin started to walk away, the rain was getting heavier now, but he stopped and lurched, stumbling to his knees. He grabbed at his left side and the gaping wound he suffered there.

"You're wounded, please; let me at least take care of your injury." Fiorella rushed to the young man's side, and looked at the wound. He didn't protest. She helped him back up, the rain a complete torrent now. She looked for some place dry to wait out the storm, but most of the ruins didn't have roofs. Then a large man carrying a lantern appeared farther along the alley way, where the assassin had appeared from.

The young man looked up from his supported position next to Fiorella and barely managed a glance in the other man's direction before lolling back against the girl's arms.

"Gratello…" He was able to mutter. The man holding the lantern -Gratello, Fiorella assumed- rushed forward, kneeling before the girl, and dropping the light to inspect the assassin.

"Oh dear…" he muttered. "He's in terrible shape. Can you bring him much farther?" He asked. Fiorella shook her head; she was surprised how heavy the assassin was considering how lightly he flew over the rooftops.

"Alright then, give him here." The girl cautiously shifted the assassin over to Gratello's care, careful not to hurt him further. The man stood and motioned with his head for the girl to grab the lantern and follow him. She complied, surprised at how calmly she was acting. She guessed she was still too much in shock from the day's events. She knew that had it not been today, she would have had the common sense to scream and run for her life, but right now she felt compelled to see that the young man was taken care of. Her father and Severnio would understand once they heard the story, right? Fiorella highly doubted that, but she needed a place to stay for the night and this was as good as any other.

She followed Gratello to an old house. It had three stories, two of which the walls had gaping holes in them towards the top. The ground level of the structure, although, was still intact and had a door. Gratello motioned for Fiorella to open it when they came nearer, quickly she darted in front of the large man and the door squeaked open. The room was poorly lit and Fiorella could make out only a small rickety table, with its only matching chair, and a rug on the ground. There was hay on the floor along with some debris. Jugs were placed at strategic points where rainwater fell from the ratty ceiling. A single, short stubby candle stuck on the table, a bowl of old, cheap wine glistening in its dim light next to it.

"Is this where you want to take care of him?" Fiorella asked, none too pleased with the living quarters.

"For now, yes. When he is somewhat better, then we'll see about moving him. But his injuries are too grave to do much right now. Besides, I'll have to see if we can trust you." At that Gratello pulled an old beaten chest from under the table. Fiorella hadn't noticed it before, and the older man opened it, revealing medical supplies. Soon he got to work asking for help here and there. Fiorella did the best she could hoping that the assassin might make it through. After what felt like hours, Gratello sat back and sighed. His hands were bloodied from the relentless working, as was his smock. The older man wiped the sweat from his forehead with his wrist, careful not to get blood on his face.

"That is all I can do. Now, we wait" He said.

**Well, how was it? I would really, really enjoy it if you could tell me. Your reviews are my life blood. So yeah, they would kinda be appreciated. ^u^ **

**~Ciao!**

**adrine R.227**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chappie 3! Yay! Two updates in one week! Whooo! Anyways, enjoy! ^.^ Oh, and Review plz! OR ELSE! Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN!  
**

Fiorella awoke to sunlight streaming in through a small window. At first, she thought _Oh, how nice of Mama to draw the curtains for me!_ But when she stretched and opened her eyes more, she realized she was not home. Not even close. Startled at first, she backed up to the wall, looking around, but when her eyes met that of the assassin's, the memories of earlier flooded into her head. She gasped, and held her hand to her heart.

"Are…" Fiorella's voice was quiet and scratchy from sleep so she cleared her throat, not wanting to sound weak in front of the dangerous man.

"Are you alright? You're up early for someone hurt that badly." She asked. In the early morning sunlight, she could get a proper look at the man, well boy actually.

He had dark, midnight raven hair, the darkest Fiorella had ever seen. It was shaggy, not cut as short as some, but not in the long pony tail like others. His eyes, which had a harsh gleam to them in the early morning light, were a piercing violet, or maybe dark blue, or maybe even a black. It was hard for Fiorella to tell. His jaw line was rounder than most his age, but still strong. His face held a youthful and mischievous look to it. Around his neck were two necklaces. One was made of soft, woven leather that had an odd metal 'A' shaped symbol hanging from it, and the other was a dirty white ribbon, hanging looser than the leather one, and tied in a bow at the two ends.

His side was bandaged, strips of gauze winding all around his torso, and his shirt lay on the floor next to him heavily stained and ripped. It was of no use to him now. This left Fiorella free to gaze upon the finely toned abdominal muscles. His skin was well tanned and he was slender, but not scrawny. The long arms hid the strength Fiorella knew was there, from what she had seen him do. But she quickly shook herself free from her revere, knowing that is was impolite to stare; especially when the subject in question could kill you. Fiorella noted that he wore the same trousers as the night before, but his feet were bare, his boots lying next to his shirt. He was stretched out, leaning against the wall next to the table with one leg up, opposite wrist resting upon his knee. He looked tall. Not as tall as Severnio, but taller than Fiorella. His height mixed with his young appearance made it hard for Fiorella to determine his age, but if she had to, she would guess that he was only a year older than her.

"Why did you do it?" The boy asked, staring right at her.

"What?" Fiorella was thoroughly confused now.

"Why did you come after me? You're clearly not a spy, so why did you follow me?" He repeated. His gaze was sharp and unforgiving.

"Well how do you know I'm not?" Fiorella asked back almost haughtily. How dare he make accusations and assumptions like that?

"Trust me, if you were a spy, you would have run back to your little master by now. So now answer the question." He snapped. His voice was as sharp as his eyes now, rough and commanding. Obviously he had no time to play games with silly little girls.

"Oh… I suppose you're right. Well… actually, there was no real reason. I just wanted to thank you for saving my life. And, well, you looked injured, so I wanted to make sure you were alright. You got yourself hurt by protecting me after all." Fiorella simply stated, as though it made the most sense in the world.

"That's it?" The boy looked slightly surprised. He cursed, causing Fiorella to jump. He muttered something under his breath, Fiorella not quite catching it

"What'd you say?" She asked. Fiorella mentally slapped her self. Surely she could not get any more uncouth than this, first staring, and now asking about what ought to be left alone? She would have to seriously reconsider with whom she was hanging out with.

"I said, 'I'm beginning to regret saving you.'!" The boy learned forward with his words, his face displaying his anger and frustration. Fiorella was taken aback. Surely not? But he had just said so.

"Look, I don't have time to be looking after you right now, so if you'd like to leave and never come back, that would be greatly appreciated." The boy turned to look out the small window, sighing in frustration. Fiorella was so confused. She had only wanted to help, and yet this boy was rebuking her so.

"But… I saved you." She said meekly, her defense falling from her lips and landing on the ground next to her, dissolving quickly and quietly without broking any argument.

"No. You didn't. Gratello did." The boy turned back to face her, his eyes widening as he shook his head slightly, as if he were talking to one who was slower in understanding than most. Fiorella realized that, in the boy's point of view, she was. Fiorella could tell her face fell. She was internally embarrassed by her idiotic statements and how dumb her emotions were making her. _How should one boy, an insolent fool, make me out to be stupid?_ Fiorella thought with annoyance. _Why should he control my intelligence? _But for some reason she could just not think clearly. This, plus the rude jabs and barbs form the boy, made her angry.

Fiorella stood up and walked to the excuse for a door. Before she jarred it open, she whipped around to see the boy had turned back to the window.

"Fine. But don't come crawling back to me the next time your little toys get you hurt." She shoved the insult at the assassin, looking upon him in disgust.

The boy did nothing, continuing to stare out the window as he did before. This made Fiorella even angrier, and she stormed out of the ramshackle building. She started walking her steps purposeful and irritated.

…

The assassin sat there, staring at a small bit of wall opposite him. This girl had the nerve to first of all, need saving, secondly, she had to follow him because she felt so endeared to do so, and thirdly, she had cost him valuable time in getting back to the brotherhood's headquarters in central Rome. But no, he had to zigzag all over the city to get her off his tail. And for what? She didn't even loose him and she wasn't even a spy. If that wasn't disappointing and frustrating, the boy didn't know what was. He was glad the girl was gone. She needed to be dealt with, and now he could finally get back to the bureau and ask for a re-assignment so that he could get another chance at killing Aturatelli. Surely Renatta would understand and give him a second chance once she heard his story. Still, he felt a little guilty about send the girl away so harshly. It was really uncalled for. He was just in a bad mood. But those kinds of thoughts would have to wait until he could dwell on them longer. Right now he needed to get back to the bureau.

The boy stood, and stretched. His wound hurt him still but only minimally. He was glad the girl- No-, he told himself –Gratello saved me, not the girl-, had gotten to him on time. He would have been hurt much more severely if he didn't. He walked over to the table where the note Gratello had left still sate, next to the now drained wooden bowl of wine. When the boy had woken up and noticed the older monk missing, he had noticed the note. It read;

_Went to market. Need to see Father Domingo about Aturatelli, I'll see if maybe he can excommunicate him. No promises though. Make sure the girl is alright then send her on her way. I'll meet you back at the bureau by nightfall_.

He had since then rooted through Gratello's meager stash of food and had come up with one small loaf of crusty and stale bread. He could understand why Gratello needed to go to market. _That old man, I swear his forgetfulness will be the death of him, _the assassin thought. Gratello had been a longtime friend of the Brotherhood, especially when he had joined the local monastery. Then they had an official link to the inside. He had many safe houses hidden all over Rome and some throughout Tuscany where assassins could find shelter and food. The boy had been on his way to the Brotherhood when he had had to get off track, and when he knew he wouldn't make it to the bureau before dark, he changed his course and headed to this particular safe house, the one where Gratello spent most of his time in seclusion and religious reflection. He would often check in back at the monastery to ask favors and to do his duty as a monk, but he wandered from safe house to safe house most of the time. The abbot of his Monastery approved, saying that his decision to live in poverty was good.

Gratello's brother, also by the name of Gratello,-It was their last name- worked as an artist, painting and selling his works in the local art exhibitions. The boy remembered Autratelli harassing him before he had the chance to strike. They rarely saw much of each other, mainly due to an argument that involved an old flame of theirs. A sound near the window brought the boy out if his revere and he looked around. He still stood, looking at the note the monk had left.

The boy wondered what the annoying girl was doing now. He remembered watching the girl sleep. She was so innocent and young. He really didn't understand how she had the guts to follow him like that. If she was scarred by a simple thug, then how did she manage to shove aside the danger and recklessness of the situation? It just didn't piece together. But that didn't matter. Right now he had an objective.

The boy turned from the spot where he had been staring when he had zoned out. He grabbed his boots and pulled them on, shoving his feet in them. His shirt was till in shreds, although Gratello had gone to the trouble of getting him a new one. His pulled it on over his head, and laced up the front. He pulled on his cloak and stashed what little weapons he had left in his belt. He opened the door of the safe house…to find the girl standing in front of him.

The boy stepped back, surprised to see her here, of all places. If nothing else he assumed she had gone running back to whoever was her father.

"What are you still doing here?" The boy asked. Fiorella was just as surprised as he was, not expecting him to open the door in her face, just as she was about to knock.

"I…uh-" Fiorella chastised herself again, trying quickly to compose herself.

"I mean, I was going to ask you for directions." She mumbled. The boy smirked

"What was that? Didn't quite catch that." He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. _Ha! The little lamb has come mewing back. _He thought. He knew that she couldn't stand being out in the big bad dangerous world without some to follow around. Someone like him for instance.

Fiorella took a deep breath, calming her nerves. She had no reason not be completely at ease in this situation. Well, besides the fact that she was standing by a murderer who could _kill_ her in the blink of an eye; but other than that, no reason to be flustered.

"Because I've never been this far from the Vatican by myself, I have no Idea how to get home. Which means you'll have to take me." Fiorella looked the boy in the eye, putting her hands on her hips and stepping forward. She surprised herself with her own confidence. She didn't know she could talk like that to a stranger.

The boy stepped back, not sure what to do with her demand.

"Whoa, hold on a minute, I can't go around babysitting you. I have a job to do, places to go and people to take out. So why don't you step aside, I don't have time for this!" The assassin tried to shove his way past her. But she stepped with him, blocking his path yet again.

"Look," Fiorella stated, trying to gather up her courage and talk like she had before, but she could feel it fading, and fast. She would have to convince him to at least take her to a place where she could find her own way back home. "I'll pay you, give you whatever you want, as long as you take me somewhere, anywhere, where I can find my way home. Please?" Fiorella could tell that her voice had turned pleading towards the end.

The assassin stood there for a moment, considering her offer. He looked to the ground. Maybe he could drop her off at the city square where she could hire someone else to take her home. That wouldn't be too bad right? And he could stop off by the bureau on the way to talk to Renatta to see if he could perhaps get another chance to take out Aurtatelli. Then, once he dropped her off, he could be on his merry way. The boy sighed in defeat.

"Fine, but I have to make a few stops first." He turned swiftly to the left, leaving Fiorella to ponder why again she had gotten herself into this mess.

**So what did you think about the new chapter? It's kind of a filler, but hey. We get to see what little Mr. Mystery Assassin is like. And don't worry, his name will be revealed. Just later. And, if you want a picture of Mr. M.A., then go to deviantart and search "Little Ezio" by raikov9. That right there is what he looks like. I know it's supposed to be Ezio, but it was just too good to pass up. Anyway, reviews would be muy beuno, or very good. So if ya could, that'd be great. **

**~Ciao!**

**Adrine R.227**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, sorry this took forever but I really wanted this to be good. So it's about four thousand some odd words, (yay!) but yeah, if you could tell me what you think, that'd be great!**

The assassin walked over to the door, wanting to grab a few more things before he left for the bureau with the girl in tow no less. Before he could even lay a hand on the weathered wood, the girl spoke up again.

"I...um, never did catch your name…" She trailed off, scared to offend him. The boy turned his head in her direction a fraction, debating whether or not to tell her his real name or not. He decided it wouldn't be a problem, especially since he could guarantee they wouldn't see each other ever again.

"Sorencio. And yours?" He waited, hand still hovering a fraction over the door, head cocked to the side.

"Fiorella." The girl stated. The two were still for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts about the other. Then Sorencio moved, pushing open the door and breaking the revere. He stepped inside; grabbing the things he needed and shoving them in a small bag. He then swung the door close silently behind him.

He started off, Fiorella close behind him.

"So where are we going?" She asked. Sorencio sighed. He knew she was going to be trouble, he just didn't know how much.

"Places." It was a need to know basis and if he could avoid her finding out exactly where they were going, then he would. He continued on his way, looking to see exactly where he'd landed himself, since things were hazy last night and this particular safe house's location changed from time to time,-he was lucky to have had Fiorella find Gratello like she did- he wasn't completely sure as to where he was.

"Hold on, I'm going to climb up that old house and see where we are. Don't move." Sorencio told Fiorella, pointing to a crumbling façade of ancient bricks. He dropped the bag at Fiorella's feet, not wanting to carry that up the side of the small tower. He darted to the side, running up part of the wall, finding some foot holds among the mortar and stones. Fiorella's view of him wavered as he scrambled in between the walls. When he reached the top, Fiorella could see that he was slightly favoring his injured side. He viewed the surrounding area and then came to a narrow protruding wooden ledge. On it was a small bird's nest and as Sorencio stepped out, the bird in it -What looked like an eagle to Fiorella- flew away, startled and squawking. He inched his way to the edge, took one more look of the surrounding area then stood, his back to her, and jumped, swan-diving into the air below and behind the building.

Fiorella gasped, and ran to the other side, abandoning the small bag, to see what would become of Sorencio. She looked around, not finding anyone or anything save a pile of stale hay a few feet away from the base of the building. She became frantic when she could not find him in the surrounding area, and began calling his name, searching and re-searching nooks and crannies, when suddenly a rustling noise came from the hay. Fiorella froze, wondering what could be in the hay. Slowly she turned…only to find the dark-haired head of Sorencio smirking up at her.

"What did you do that for?" Fiorella demanded. Putting her hands on her hips and cocking them to the side. Sorencio just sat there, pieces of hay in his hair and a giant, childish, evil grin plastered over his face. No comments, just that look.

"To get down." He answered simply, getting up out of the hay, and dusting himself off.

"You could have gotten yourself killed with a stunt like that!" Fiorella berated.

"And? I do that every day. And I pretty much get myself killed every other day." He walked over to where he and Fiorella had both neglected the bag. "Besides, didn't I tell you not to move? There's stuff in here I don't want getting stolen and there you are, not paying it any attention." Sorencio snatched up the bag and checked to see if all of its contents where there. When he was satisfied he slung his bag back over his shoulder and started off in a seemingly random direction.

Fiorella stared in disbelief at Sorencio. How could he have such little disregard for life, whether it be his own or someone else? Fiorella, growing up in the Vatican of Pope Julius the second she had been taught that all life was precious and a gift from god. But this boy would throw it away at a moment's notice. How? And more importantly, why? Fiorella shook her head to rid her mind of the begrudging questions. She didn't have time to think about stuff like that. Right now she needed to concentrate on making sure that Sorencio took her home.

Sorencio weaved in and out of crumbling stone structures, making his way towards the edge of the ruins. Climbing up the tower had most certainly helped him get his bearings back, and he had upset the girl too. _This might be fun after all. _ He thought. Soon enough, they were out of the maze of the old ruins onto the possibly even more confusing streets of Rome.

They hadn't gone far, when all of a sudden, Sorencio tensed up and shoved Fiorella into the shadows. He shoved her up against a wall, and flattened himself against her, he put his finger to his lips, telling Fiorella to be quiet. A few meters away were a group of guards, chatting nonchalantly, but nonetheless they were alert and looking for any sign of trouble. One man passed by, carrying a large wooden box, filled with old scrolls. One of the guards who had been poking around in a haystack- why someone would do that, Fiorella didn't know- looked over and smirked towards the man. He prodded his cohort and directed his gaze to the man with the box. The second guard smiled almost as evilly. He went up and began walking towards the man, looking at something in his hand. When the man grew closer, he tried to side-step the guard to avoid hitting him, but the guard mimicked his movements and the man ran straight into him. The box came crashing to the ground and shattered, scrolls scattering every-where. The guard stepped backwards, purposefully stepping on a few of the scrolls on the process and surveyed the damage. He hid a smirk quickly before he turned to the man.

"Watch where you're going, imbecile!" he threw his hands up in agitation. "If I ever see you doing something stupid again, I will not hesitate to throw you in jail!" The guard roared. The man who had been carrying the box just sat there stunned and horrified. He fell to his knees to pick up the scrolls.

"My papers! No, these were priceless antiques!" The guard left him there and returned to his comrades, snickering and pointing at the man.

Fiorella was stunned. After the guards left and Sorencio deemed it safe to leave their hiding spot, she turned to him.

"How could they just do something like that?" She clutched the folds of her cloak to her, like it could protect her from the injustice of it all. Sorencio glanced at her, then grabbed her fore-arm and continued to lead her through the streets.

"They do it because they can. When Pope Alexander the sixth ruled Rome, he had guards similar to these who would patrol the streets and keep the populace under his thumb. They were naught but hired mercenaries, under the Borgia flag, but they still were loyal to him and carried out his ruthless orders. Then Pope Pius III came to the papacy after Rodrigo was…eradicated; he was quick to be rid of the guards." Sorencio explained.

"So they work for the pope?" Fiorella was astounded that the man who called himself the leader of the Holy Roman Empire would do something like that.

"No. But they work for someone who is close to the Pope. That is how they escape the law; their master dismisses their actions by saying it is necessary for the people to understand that they are in control. Otherwise they would but an unruly group of heathens." Sorencio scoffed and walked a little faster, tugging at Fiorella's arm.

Fiorella followed in silence for a few minutes, processing what she had just heard. Sorencio weaved in and out of the groups of townspeople, sometimes taking her down dark alleys and others leading her across small bridges. He brusquely turned a corner and smiled. There, on the ground was a medium sized crate, with a pulley system attached to it. It ran all the way to the rooftop of the building it was leaning against.

"Come on." He grabbed her by the waist and gripped the rope. He then kicked the locking mechanism free and they sailed upwards. Fiorella squeaked in terror as the momentum carried them all the way to the top of the roof and as Sorencio stepped out form mid-air onto the terra-cotta tiles with ease. He quickly let her go and continued to walk along the roof. She stood for a moment, trying to catch her breath then followed Sorencio to where he stood. He hauled himself onto a slightly higher section of roof then continued to the edge. She looked down on the scene over his shoulder. There below was a small cross-section where a few merchants stood. It was bustling with activity. To their left the roof tops continued, almost like an irregular pathway. Sorencio looked in the direction of the pathway, then back towards Fiorella.

"This way. It'll be faster."Sorencio started in that direction and helped haul up Fiorella whenever she needed it. Soon they were on their way. A few times they had to dodge behind rooftop gardens to escape patrolling guards. Sorencio came to a stop at the end of the "pathway" that they had followed. The roofs gave way to a road and continued on the other side, but between them and the other roof was a fifteen foot drop and 3 yard wide jump. Sorencio evaluated the situation. He was sure he could make the jump, but this girl, he might have to do something about that. But before he could make any decisions, a guard a couple roof tops away yelled, noticing them.

Sorencio cursed and backed up as far as he could go. He would just have to teach this kid how to jump. And fast.

"Wait, you're not going to….?" But Fiorella's question was answered as he started running. When he got to the edge, he used all the force he had and jumped, landing solidly on the other side.

"Quick! Jump!" Sorencio held out his hand and motioned for Fiorella to take the leap.

"But I can't make it that far!" The girl backed away from the edge, but the guard was looming ever closer.

"Just do what I did, you'll be fine!" Sorencio's patience was wearing thin.

"But… but what if I can't do it?" Fiorella looked behind her, hoping to find another way down, but all she saw was the guard. And he had brought re-enforcements.

The girl gulped, seeing no other way. She backed up even more then ran. She got as fast as the space allowed her then got to the edge and pumped all of her strength into what she hoped was the biggest jump she'd ever taken in her life. Time seemed to slow down as she sailed over the street, eyes glued to Sorencio's hand. She prayed that she would somehow make it, that god would send a wind to carry her over to the other side. If only. If she could just make it then maybe he could pull her up…but the looming edge of the building interrupted her thoughts…

She landed, partially at least. Her right hand connected with Sorencio's left, as her feet dangled off of the edge. She lay there on her stomach for a few seconds before Sorencio hauled her up. The guards reached the spot where Fiorella had begun running and increased their speed. Apparently, they were going to jump too.

"Oh, s-," But he didn't get to finish, he just turned and ran as fast as he could, hoping Fiorella could keep up, but if she couldn't…well it wasn't his fault. When Fiorella was fully up-right, she saw the assassin racing away from her. She smiled and raced after him. Her jump had left her speechless and breathless. Even though it was the scariest thing of her life it was also the most...exhilarating. She had felt weightless and free; exactly what she thought a bird might feel like when flying. Now she understood why Sorencio did that all the time.

She continued to follow Sorencio over the roof tops ducking and dodging whatever was in her way. Whenever they came to another jump, she got excited, but none were was big as the first she had encountered. She was just about to make another one when she noticed that Sorencio did not land on the other side, but instead jumped into a small canal. She followed suite and was shocked when she made contact with the water. It was unnervingly cold especially in the middle of June, but not so much that she felt like she couldn't move. The assassin dove under the ledge of an overhanging building, and Fiorella followed. The water was murky and polluted but not so much that she couldn't see where she was going. The assassin swam into a small rectangular cove where a small latch took up about eight feet of the ceiling.

He took out his hidden blade and shoved it into a peculiar looking lock. It clicked open and Sorencio shoved the heavy wooden door open, revealing a brightly lit sandstone corridor. Standing, and looking quite surprised, was a guard, dressed similarly to what Sorencio had worn when he had first attacked Autratelli. He looked at a drenched Sorencio for a few minutes, then smiled and helped him up.

"Sorencio! So that's where you've gotten to! I was beginning to get a bit worried. Of course, it's you, why wouldn't you be okay, Mr. Next-in-line-to-be-Master-Assassin!" The assassin grinned and patted Sorencio on the back, so forcefully that he actually spat out some water.

"Shut it Fabian. Besides, I need to go find Regatta." Sorencio tried to push past him, but Fabian held him back.

"Whoa whoa whoa. You're not even going to introduce me to your lady friend here? Fine then, I'll do it myself." Fabian started to lean towards Fiorella, but Sorencio shoved him back.

"She's just an assignment . You don't need to worry about her. I've just got to take her home. Nothing big. And she's _not_ a courtesan." Sorencio looked at Fabian pointedly.

"Okay, okay, say no more. You could have just said she was your girlfriend." Fabian snickered.

"She's not my girlfriend." Sorencio growled through gritted teeth.

"Whatever. Just take her to Claudia. She'll probably be the last to say we just execute her. Besides, she always like fawning over the younger ones." Fabian grinned at Fiorella as Sorencio helped her up, he then walked back to his post and closed the hatch. Sorencio grabbed a hold of her sodden wrist and pulled her along down the short corridor, his wet feet making squishy noises that made Fiorella giggle. Sorencio glared at her.

"What, pray tell, so you think is so funny?" He was obviously not happy about the comments Fabian had made, nor that fact that he had to lug Fiorella around the city.

"N-nothi-ing." Fiorella couldn't quite hold back all of her laughter. Sorencio just huffed and rolled his eyes, leading her around a corner and into a hall that displayed tall paintings of regal people, and small displays of weapons and armor stood. She slowed a little, gawking at everything in the room and how old a lot of it was. Sorencio just kept forging on a head, pulling Fiorella along. Eventually they got to a larger, more open room, where deep crimson banners hung and more people milled about. They were all dressed similarly, like Fabian; white hoods and knee length robes, some with black cloths covering their faces, and others with stripped leggings, and some with armor and some without. Fiorella could tell there was a hierarchy to it all, but she couldn't quite figure out who was in charge.

"What is this place?" Fiorella asked. She wondered how she couldn't have known something like this was here all this time.

"Our headquarters. Now shut up and let me do the talking." Sorencio brushed away her comment.

Everyone in the room, well mostly everyone, turned to glance at the odd pair before going back to browsing bookshelves and showing others different stabbing techniques. Sorencio pulled them closer to a heavy oaken desk in one corner Where a taller and noticeably older woman stood, talking to two other younger assassins.

"Regatta. We need to talk." Sorencio demanded. The assassins looked up, and Regatta shooed the younger two away, promising to speak to them later.

"Do we now?" She looked a little ticked off at being interrupted, but when she caught sight of Fiorella her gaze darkened just a bit more.

"What is this? Who is this girl and why did you bring her here?" Regatta's face instantly got stormy. "You know you do not bring outsiders in here!" She came out from behind the desk and looked sternly at Sorencio.

"I-," But he was caught off by Fiorella.

"Signora, please, it's not what you think. I got lost and Sorencio here was kind enough to take me home, he just needed to stop here first was all." She tried to sound as Professional as she could, but Regatta's gaze was piercing.

"Please, she's not important, I promise by the creed that she won't speak of this to anyone." Sorencio told Regatta in a low serious tone. Regatta considered this for a moment before she let a small smile spread across her features.

"Very well, but she'll need a change of clothes first. Gina where is Claudia? Is she in right now?" She heralded one of the younger assassins she had been talking to earlier.

"Si signora. Shall I take her to her?" The girl, Gina nodded towards Fiorella.

"Please. And tell her that her son is back in." Regatta then turned back to Sorencio. "Go change and we can talk. Fiorella will talk with your mother and may haps we can sort out this business." Regatta turned to some paperwork, and let them be.

Fiorella turned to Sorencio to thank him, but he was already gone. Gina came up to Fiorella and motioned towards another brightly lit hall.

"This way, Miss." She followed the assassin through the corridor and up a flight of spiral stairs to another hall, this one perhaps a bit warmer and lined with oaken doors. She assumed it was like a barracks, where assassins could sleep and rest up. Gina led her to a larger door at the very end of the hall and knocked. A muffled voice form within said something like "Come in." and Gina opened the door.

Inside was even darker in some places than the river water had been. But sitting near an open window at a table was an elegant older woman. She looked to be about forty, but her features were youthful and she had many laugh lines. But under that were the wrinkles of sorrow and loss. Fiorella wondered what kind of a woman she was, to be happy and sad so much. The woman wore a regal dark crimson gown and a simple gold chain necklace. A few jewel encrusted hairpins held together what looked to be the simplest and most beautiful bun that Fiorella had seen. The woman stood and smiled, motioning for Fiorella to come in. She did, and Gina left, shutting the door behind her.

"Ciao, il mio bambino.(Hello, my child.) I'm Signora Claudia." The woman spoke with a commanding, yet understanding tone. Fiorella smiled cautiously and curtsied.

"I'm Fiorella. Regatta sent me." Fiorella didn't really know what to do. So she decided to wait for Signora Claudia to tell her.

"Ah yes. I see that you have come with my son, is that true?" Claudia moved to a fireplace where a small pot sat over the fire. She grabbed a thick cloth and wrapped it around the handle, placing on the stone floor around the mantle. She set up a small rack by the fair and took a shirt off of it and folded it.

"Well, I arrived with Sorencio, and if he is your son, then yes." Fiorella stood, wringing her hands.

"Very good, I shall speak with him later. Here, come warm yourself by the fire, I shall fetch you some dry clothes while you wait. Feel free to look around. I have nothing to hide." Claudia smiled like it was an inside joke then left, carrying the shirt with her.

Fiorella looked around the room. The table that Claudia had been sitting at earlier had papers and quills scatted over it, and it reminded Fiorella of her father's own desk back home. Suddenly she was hit with a twang of homesickness. She wondered what would be going on in the Abbette household right now. Her father and mother were probably worried sick, and when she returned, she would be in so much trouble. She had enjoyed her adventures with Sorencio, but guilt weighed down in her stomach. Why she decided to follow him in the first place, she'd never know, but she felt like she had to see the man who had saved her again.

The reality of her situation hit her then, and the weight of the decisions she had made settled in. She had been foolish, it was not like her to disobey her parents like that, going off without any notice to a place they would most certainly not approved of. And then Severnio. Sweet Severnio. She would give anything to be joking around with him again right now. She felt absolutely horrible that she had left, and not even let him know she was alive and well. He was her best friend. Now she was going to be in trouble with _two_ powerful families in Roma. Great. She wondered what her punishment would be when she got home. But she just couldn't focus on what would happen to her when she got home. Right now she just missed her family.

And Fiorella began to cry. She sat there, tears pouring down her cheeks, hoping Signora Claudia wouldn't come in and see her in pieces. The last thing she wanted was for an association of murderers to see that she was weak. She tried to stem the flow and shove her feelings to the back of her mind, but she couldn't they just kept coming back. Finally she gave up and the sobs came in earnest, she curled up on the chair next to the fireplace, just waiting for them to stop. After what felt like hours but was really minuets, a small sound came form the door, and a figure walked in. Fiorella felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Signora Claudia. Fiorella was horrified. She quickly tried to compose herself, wiping her tear-stained cheeks on her slightly dryer sleeve and sniffling a couple of times.

Claudia's face was warm and kind not brutal or angry. She merely handed Fiorella the clothes she had brought, and then left. At the door she stopped and turned slightly.

"When you are ready, come downstairs and find me in the main hall, we'll get you something to eat." Then she quietly closed the door behind her.

Fiorella looked at the clothes she had given her. They were white-ish grey now that she got a good look at them, and they looked about her size, if not a little bigger. The pile consisted of a knee length white robe, brown trousers, sturdy buckle-up brown leather boots that went up to just above mid-calf, leather belt, and a long-sleeved white over-shirt, which was made out of a light, but thick material and had the infamous hood. Fiorella quickly pulled off her sodden maroon dress and tried on the clothes. They fit well enough, she decided, and then yanked on the boots and belt. She walked over to a vanity and found a brush, hoping Claudia wouldn't mind her using it just once. She quickly ran it through her hair and then twisted her hair into a long braid. When she had finished, she got a good look around the room.

The door was in the corner near the table and open window, which opened up to a beautiful view of the Tiber River, and the rest of Rome. Next to the door, a few feet away on its other side was the fireplace with its huge mantle and curios upon it, and beyond the fireplace stood a dresser and the vanity. Opposite the fireplace stood a large four poster bed, with dark red sheets and blankets. The open window's sunlight streamed in and shone upon the bed, making the reds turn brighter.

Fiorella then turned back to the drying rack by the fireplace and hung her dress there. Then she quickly left the room, grateful for a chance to clean up. When she reached the main hall, she found Claudia at a table, talking to a newly changed Sorencio and Regatta. Regatta looked angry again, and she was throwing her hands up in distaste at whatever Sorencio had just said. As she grew closer she could hear their conversation;

"But it was just a small mistake. All I want is another chance at him. It'll just be an in and out thing. I go in, kill him, then I'm out and nobody ever saw me. Why won't you let me do this Regatta?" Sorencio stood and glared at here, the table slightly shaking form his sudden movement.

"Because! You had your chance, and you failed it. Now you have a different mission and it's to watch the girl. You know that her family is close to the pope. Maybe we can infiltrate them and use it as a position to get close to him before Aturatelli does. You know that it is vital that we keep the pope on our side. If He weavers in the least, then we are all doomed back to the days of Borgia." Regatta almost sneered at Sorencio, but he glared back just as fiercely.

"Please, calm yourselves, we can discuss this in full when my husband gets back, but for now we will bide our time. And Sorencio, I want you to mind your tongue." Signora Claudia told him sternly.

"Yes, mother." He looked down. Claudia then caught sight of Fiorella and beckoned her over.

"My dear, we have come to some decisions, and we feel you ought to know, since you'll be playing a vital part. Sorencio, take he to get something to eat and explain to her on the way.

The assassin said nothing, but instead just got up and walked away, expecting Fiorella to follow. He stopped back in the room with the pictures and displays. He stood in front of one in particular, one of a tall woman with long blond hair, unusual here in Italy. She wore a rich maroon gown with a plunging neckline and stiff high collar.

"Who's this?" Fiorella asked. She walked a little closer, to get a better look, and saw the woman was beautiful, but her smile was malicious.

"Lucrezia Borgia. My mother."

**Well, a bit of a twist ending there, eh? Things will be explained in the upcoming chapters, don't worry. I know it's confusing, and I apologize. A lot of this I came up with on the fly, so if it doesn't flow, just let me know. PLLLLEEEEEAAASSSSSSEEEE REEEEEVVVVIIIEEEWWWWW! Cookies and a mention to whoever reviews first!**

**~Ciao!**

**Adrine R.227**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys, I know things are really confusing right now, but everything will be explained. In this Chapter. Hopefully…Also a big shout out to Chameleon Circuit, to whom I was listening to when I was writing this. Let me know if any of you are also giant Doctor Who fans! And thanks so much, you guys have been great! I really appreciate the support. Review plz!**

"What? But I thought you said Claudia was your mother…." Fiorella stepped back a little. Sorencio hung his head. He looked ashamed, but Fiorella couldn't figure out why.

"She is, or was, or... it's complicated. Claudia is my adopted mother. She just asks that I call her mother." Sorencio said, still looking at his boots.

"So this woman, Lucrezia? You said, is your real, blood mother…." Fiorella tried to piece together everything she was being told, but it was all so confusing.

"Yes." Sorencio scuffled around a bit, just standing there, still looking at his shoes.

"So then, why do you live and work here, with Claudia?" Fiorella could tell this was going to be a touchy subject, but she wanted to know.

"It's a long story. First let's find something to eat." Sorencio moved over to a door set in the back, and he flung it open, revealing another flight of stairs, this one leading down into a large hall. It was leaden with banners, each with the strange 'A' shaped symbol in gold threading. It looked like the hall was mainly ceremonial, kind of like a sanctuary in a church, but there was no pulpit.

"This is the Initiation Hall. When a recruit or an apprentice becomes a true assassin, this is where the ceremony takes place. Also the few marriages that we have take place here." Sorencio then moved to the back of the hall where a small corridor that delicious scents wafted down.

"The kitchens?" Fiorella guessed.

"Yes. They're a fairly recent addition." When the two arrived, Sorencio immediately straightened up and his air of arrogance was back.

"You can drop the charade now." He said, moving ahead of her to a table where a bowl of fruit stood. He grabbed an apple and begun chomping lazily.

"Wait, what?" Fiorella was really confused now. First, he was angry, then he was shy, and now he was arrogant? She was really starting to feel the whiplash from his constant emotional changes. Sorencio sighed, then tutted at her like she would never understand.

"You see Claudia and Regatta both agreed that if I told you more about myself and 'opened up' then you'd trust me more. But now that I'm not in range of either, I don't have to keep pretending that I'm an emotional sap."

"So you were just acting the entire time? And here I thought you weren't a soulless monster for a few moments." Fiorella crossed her arms over her chest, and looked warily at him. There was no way she was going to trust him.

"Ah, and that's where you were wrong. I am after, a mindless killer." Sorencio winked and tossed his half eaten apple in the air, deftly catching it.

"So why would I want to trust you in the first place?" Fiorella asked. She cocked her head and hips to the side, trying to sneer at Sorencio while also trying get the upper hand in this fight of looking-like-you-couldn't-even-give-a-flicker-of-emotion-if-the-other-person-died.

"Oh I'm sure you shouldn't trust me, but 'mother' and Regatta seem to think that you should, so, if you could, and this would save us both a lot of trouble, could at least _act_ like I'm not going to dump you off at your silly little mansion as soon as I get the chance, that would be excellent." Sorencio gave her a fake smile and looked back to his apple, preoccupied. Fiorella was stunned. No one had ever treated her with such disrespect. And  
yet she just stood there, arms limp at her side and mouth agape. She thought she could see the hint of a smile playing on Sorencio's face.

"Well then, I'll try not to breathe too much around you." Fiorella tried to put as much venom into that sentence as she could muster, but the truth was, she wasn't very good at being mean…

"Would you? That'd be great!" Sorencio stood to go, but hesitated.

"Oh, and by the way, the cook might spare you something if you ask nicely, but he usually doesn't cater to what the cat dragged in." And at that he took off, back the way they had come, off to stalk who knows what.

Fiorella glared daggers at the spot that the assassin had been mere seconds ago. She went to a counter, across which, was a fireplace with a cauldron hanging over it, bubbling merrily, a few chopping blocks, and other cooking supplies. Barrels and burlap sacks filled with vegetables lined the back wall, and small jars with dried herbs and spices. A large man, not very different to Gratello in shape and size, sat in a corner, peeling small red potatoes.

Fiorella walked around the counter. She looked at all the culinary curios, fingering a turnip that sat on the edge of a granite block.

"May I help you miss?" The cook had looked up from his potatoes and now stood, staring at Fiorella with a small smile on his face. Fiorella blushed, and shoved her hands behind her back.

"I, um, was sent to get some food. Signora Claudia said I should get something to eat, and then Sorencio showed me here." Fiorella hoped she hadn't offended the cook in any way by snooping around in his kitchen, for she was starving. The cook smiled wider, revealing a gap.

"Well be welcomed to my kitchens. Sorencio can give new recruits a bit of a cold shoulder, but don't mind him." The cook talked with a slight accent, from where Fiorella didn't know. He spread his arms wide, potatoes in one hand and small knife in the other.

"Thank you singore, but I'm not a recruit. Sorencio has to take me home, and while we were on our way here, well we took a bit of a swim." Fiorella smiled back sheepishly.

"And yet you wear our colors, but it is not matter. Ah, Sorencio always did love to splash around at bath time when he was a lad." The cook put down the potatoes and stepped over to the cauldron that was currently sitting over the fire. "Here, I made this incase some others showed up from a mission. There is plenty to go around though." The cook took a heavy wooden bowl from a table near to him and ladled Fiorella a few heaping spoonfuls of the warm, delicious smelling victuals.

"Mnnn." Fiorella closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the aroma. "I can smell garlic. And celery. Is it a stew?" She opened her eyes again and looked eagerly towards the cook.

"You have a good sense of smell, for it is a secret family recipe, handed down to me from my great-great-granduncle. We call it potpie. Usually it is severed in a bread bowl, but some fresh loaves have just finished cooling and I think that would work nicely." The man gave the bowl and a small piece of bread to Fiorella and she could see that his mustache twirled at the ends. The cook ushered her to a comfortable table, then good naturedly patter her on the head with his huge, burly hands.

"Thank you, signore." Fiorella was grateful to eat something warm

"Pleas, call me Vincent." Vincent went back to the potatoes, but he kept his eyes on Fiorella.

"I don't think I've heard that name around here. Are you foreign?" Fiorella asked in between bites of the stew and small loaf.

"You would be correct. I'm French. I came here as a favor to the Master who was in control here before. I have free room and board and protection around Rome in exchange for cooking for the assassins. They give me money so that I can send one of the apprentices to do my shopping. I like it here, and the people are nice enough." He looked back down to his potatoes. Fiorella smiled. He was nice, warm man and it was a relief from the cold hard, steely gazes from all the rest of assassins. Fiorella ate in silence with the occasional sound form Vincent, but soon her peace was disturbed by none other than Sorencio.

"Come one. Time to go." He trotted into the room, wearing boring browns and grays, still looking annoyed. He had fewer weapons with him then he did earlier, or, at least it I_ looked_ like he did. Fiorella gave her now empty bowl to Vincent, who smiled to her, and she turned to face Sorencio.

"So you're going to what? Take me to the market so that I can hire someone to take me home?" Fiorella felt a whole lot better after she had gotten something to eat. She hadn't realized how hungry she was. Even thought she felt more patient now, she was still wary of his barbs. She knew that she was going to be seeing a lot more of him, but she didn't know how much. That part of Sorencio's and Regatta's conversation she had not heard.

"No. There's been a change of plans. I am to take you home and watch you. It seems that because of your family's position in proximity to the pope I get to do reconnaissance." There was a sour expression on his face, and he turned back towards the door before he finished.

"What? But if you're just watching, then how are you supposed to get closer to the pope?" Fiorella shouted. Sorencio spun around. And looked at her, surveying her every move.

"How did you know I was supposed to be doing that?" Sorencio glared daggers at her, determined to get the truth out of her. Too late Fiorella realized her mistake, of mentioning something that she had overheard.

"I…uh-I overheard you and Regatta talking earlier. Saying that you wanted another chance at Aturatelli and she wanted you to get close to the pope through me." Fiorella looked at her feet, wondering what he would do. She looked up, determined to make a jibe out the statement someway. "How do you plan on doing that anyway?" She sneered.

Sorencio looked up, a smirk in his face. "Well at least that one thing I don't have to explain. And well, for a while that's all I am going to do. Watch. You'll meet me in the markets every so often and tell me what you've heard around your house. I'll patrol around and there's a safe house in that area and I'll stay there. If I need to get in touch with you,…well we'll arrange that later, when I understand the lay of the land better. When I see an opening then I'll move in." Sorencio turned back around and walked out of the kitchen and into the initiation hall. Fiorella processed this information for a while.

So in short, she was going to be going behind her parents back, a spy in her own household, going to suspicious meetings with a suspicious person at suspicious times? Okay.

"What makes you think I'll agree to this." She crossed her arms over her chest. Being deliberately stubborn.

"Look, your precious little pope is in trouble. We've already had enough trouble with corruption when Borgia was in power, we don't need that again." Sorencio pushed open the door to the main den. It looked less crowded to Fiorella, and Sorencio, noticing this commented.

"Must be around dusk. No one's in here…" He looked around, to verify his theory.

"Why would they be gone around dusk?" Fiorella pushed past Sorencio to look around.

"We are assassins. We work in the dark to serve the light." Was all the response she got. Fiorella turned around, to see Claudia striding towards them.

"Signora!" Fiorella was not expecting her.

"Mother." Sorencio inclined his head, and she smiled faintly.

"I presume that my son explained everything to you?" Claudia walked with them towards the center of the room. The candles flickered faintly and cast odd shadows around the room.

"He… Did. Yes." Fiorella looked pointedly at Sorencio who wore a poker face.

"Good. Well if you have need of anything, tell Sorencio, and he will let me now. Good luck to you both. Go in peace." Before she left, she gave Fiorella back her now dry clothes, and a small dagger. Fiorella looked at it uncertainly. Sorencio noticed and laughed.

"It's a blade, you know, for cutting things with?" He jabbed.

"I know what it is." Fiorella shot back. "I just don't know if I'll be able to use it…" She shoved the dagger into her belt, hoping against hope that she wouldn't have to touch the thing again.

"You're such a child. Get over it. People get hurt and die all the time." Sorencio hissed at her.

"But sometimes, they don't need too. Why do you throw life away like a rotten tomato?" Fiorella stared in disbelief at Sorencio.

"Look, what I do is necessary. Some people in this world do not need to be here. They only cause sorrow and misery. Besides, it's none of your business." Sorencio narrowed his eyes, and leaned in towards her. Fiorella stepped back a bit.

"Well I think it is my business, that is if you want to be working with me for the next week or so." Fiorella countered. Sorencio just glared at her. After awhile, he thrust the bag that he had been carrying earlier towards her. It hung limp and empty now.

"Stow your dress in there. It will be easier to carry." Sorencio turned away, and continued to equip weapons and other gizmos. Fiorella stuffed her large maroon dress into the bag, wishing that she could wear it instead of the bothersome trousers. She would look so much more dignified if she could, but alas, one could not jump from rooftop to rooftop in a dress, she had learned.

The thought of the rooftops brought the memory of her first, large jump and a smile spread across her face. She remembered the feeling of absolute freedom, like nothing could touch her, and it was glorious. For a split second, she envied Sorencio and the skills he possessed; after all, he could jump much farther and higher. But she shook her self free.

She looked up from the bag and noticed that Sorencio was at the small set of steps to the larger door. She quickly hurried after him, and when they got out onto the street, the evening air sent chills through her body. She pulled the robe closer and pulled up her hood. Sorencio mimicked her movements, and adjusted his small sword so that it would be less conspicuous.

"Where, exactly are we?" Fiorella glanced at Sorencio, hoping that maybe he could tell her.

"Tiber Island. Now stay close and shut up. Don't say a word or do anything stupid. You could get us both killed." Sorencio barely even looked in her direction.

**Hey guys! Again, sorta…. So yeah. This was supposed to go up on Saturday, but it wasn't exactly finished. I hope this chapter explains some things and if it doesn't, let me know and I'll try to do that in another chapter. Shout out to ShadowHunterInExile, who was the first to review last time. YAYAYAYAYAYAY! Cookies for you (::) (::) Review plz! And Maybe you'll get a character, that is if you can persuade me….HAHAA! just kidding. Oh, and if you don't review then I will kill off Vincent. And none of you will get anymore stew! SO YOU BETTER REVIEW!**

**~Ciao!**

**Adrine R.227**


	6. Chapter 6

**Oh my lord, I am sosoosososo sorry if you guys are getting notifications like crazy, I had uploaded this then realized how many grammatical mistakes there were (There were so many it wasn't even funny) so I had to go back and fix it _twice_ because fanfic was being stupid, so yeah, I apologize. Hey guys, sorry this is taking so long…. Grrr. Life is too confusing. Oh well. Hey did any get revelations? And if so, did any get to the part with Ezio and Sofia and she asks "Who are you?" and he answers: "The most interesting man in your life." Well yeah. I loved that part. That's an Ezio flirt win! That's an Ezio-acting-like-the-Dos-Equis-guy-while-flirting-at-53-years-old win! Roll the next chapter Steven! (Anyone get the Toby reference? No? Just me being a dork? Yeah, ok.) Also! The end! Mind BOGGLING!**

"Ow, hey! Watch it!" Fiorella yelped as a rude merchant slammed into her with his crate of wares. He grunted in response, and kept walking. "So rude!" Fiorella rubbed her shoulder. She had noticed that people treated her differently when she wore the white-grey assassin robes, and not her Nobles finery.

"Shh. Quiet. Don't attract attention. We don't need it. Just…blend." Sorencio told her, weaving through the crowd. Dark colours were painted across the sky, with blues and oranges and reds so rich and deep that even an expert artist would envy the beauty with which they displayed themselves. She sighed, wishing she could see this same sight, but safe at home. The evening markets were drawing to a close but few still lingered, trying to get the most profit possible from that day. It had been two days since Fiorella had left to follow Sorencio. She didn't know if she regretted or was thankful for that decision yet. Maybe both or maybe neither, she couldn't tell. All that she did know was that she missed her family.

"Stop walking like that, it's too conspicuous!" Sorencio hissed at her under his hood and cloak.

"Like what? What am I doing wrong this time?" Fiorella threw her hands up in exasperation.

"The way you're holding yourself, it's too regal. Hunch and slouch a bit. It's more…normal." Fiorella could detect a hint of disgust in his voice. She raised her eyebrows, looking pointedly at the back of his hooded head.

"So now I'm too fancy? Fine. Whatever." Fiorella hunched down a bit, trying to imitate the people she saw around her. All she got was a pain in her back.

"No, you're doing it wrong! Look, I'll show you." Sorencio moved a bit farther in front of her. He slouched, looking at his feet and not really noticing the world around him. He said nothing, instead walked just behind groups of people. He didn't walk to fast or too slow. He just looked like another Roman out for an evening stroll. Fiorella watched and tried to do the same thing. She hurried to walk closer to Sorencio, determined not to be a straggler.

"Better. Somewhat. Just relax. Make it more natural" Sorencio kept moving. Soon enough they passed another one of the evening markets. This one selling fruit.

"Let's stop here. I'm hungry." Sorencio walked over to a vendor, eying the colorful edibles. He picked up a pomegranate, hefting it once. He dug in his pouch and pulled out a single silver coin. He tossed it to the bleary eyed merchant and munched away, red juice flying everywhere. The tantalizing aroma made Fiorella's mouth water.

"Give me some money, I want one to." She demanded, holding her hand out.

"No, use your own money." He said, biting the fruit once again.

"But I don't have any!" She whined. It was not fair, not at all. Especially when it looked so good…..

"Just steal some." It was like he didn't even care, oh wait. He didn't. Fiorella sighed.

"But I can't!" She looked at him, stunned he would even say that.

"Sure you can. It's not like they'll notice. Well, that is if you do it right…" He smirked. "I bet you couldn't steal olives from a tree!"

"I could too! Just watch me!" She defended herself. She walked away, looking at the crowd. She spotted and daft looking man who was obnoxiously haggling over an apple with a fat woman. _He wouldn't notice, I'll just grab his pouch and be done with it. _ Fiorella walked over to the man, trying to act casually. She mulled around, looking for an opening. He was getting out his purse and handing over a few reluctant coins when she spotted it. She trotted over and ran into him, making him stumble and loose hold of his money. It dropped it with a clatter and she snatched it up quick as a fox and shuffled swiftly away. _Yes! Yes I did it! Ha, who's the incompetent fool now Sorencio?_ Fiorella was celebrating in her triumph when a call came from behind her.

"Miss, it would be greatly appreciated if you gave me my money back." So the man wasn't as much of a fool as she had thought. But she kept walking, pretending she hadn't heard him.

"Miss, it would be in your best interest if you gave me back my florins." The statement came from closer behind her this time. She spun around, and noticed the man was naught but a few inches from her, holding what looked like a very, very sharp dagger. Fiorella gulped, slowly giving him the pouch with a shaking hand. The old man started cackling. He eyed her, raising a delirious eyebrow.

"Heh, better luck next time, yes? As long as it's not me!" He smiled, and hobbled off. Fiorella sat there, a bit stunned form her encounter. She was disturbed by a bit of pomegranate juice hitting her face. She looked over to see a smug looking Sorencio smirking down at her

"So. Looks like I was wrong. You couldn't even steal form a crazy old man!" He laughed, bits of pomegranate spraying everywhere. Fiorella glared daggers at him, wiping the parts of the red fruit from her cheek.

"It's not funny. And besides, he was a sly one. I bet you couldn't do it!" She crossed her arms over her chest, pouting like a toddler.

"Ha! You wanna see me try? You know what? I'll even get that lady's purse. If I can't get both, I'll buy you your own pomegranate." Sorencio finished off his own pomegranate, and wiped his hands on his cloak. He walked over to the woman he had pointed out and subtlety reached out for her coin purse. She didn't even flinch. Then, he went on to the crazy man, who had walked over to someone selling strange oblong yellow fruits. Sorencio loitered around for a while, acting casual and looking at the fruit.

"Excuse me sir," Sorencio leaned over to the merchant that the old crazy man had been talking to, and bumping into him, slyly taking his coin purse. "What are these fruits?" The merchant smiled.

"I have been asked that many times. They are a new and strange kind of fruit from the Indies that Columbus discovered*. They call it, a _banana._" The merchant laughed.

"Ah. I see. Thank you." Sorencio smirked and walked away. Then he froze, his face going livid.

The crazy old guy stepped out from behind him, the dagger poking Sorencio's back. "You assassins must be really _stupido._" He spat. "Because if you think you can steal from me twice in one day, you are _begging_, for a blade betwixt your ribs." Sorencio slowly turned and gave him his money back.

"That's right. Nice and easy." The man took his money and stalked away, not wanting to stay in a place that obviously didn't like him. Sorencio walked back to Fiorella, a glare fixed on his features. Fiorella gave a small laugh, not wanting to upset him too much.

"So." She said. "I want that pomegranate. That one right there." Fiorella smiled winningly at him. He grumbled as he picked up the fruit, being unnecessarily forceful. It smooshed in his grasp, and he growled, low and gravely under his breath.

"Oh. Looks like I need a new one." Fiorella giggled, enjoying his anger. She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her hips to the side. Sorencio walked and overly exaggerated gently picking up a new pomegranate. He walked over to the merchant and sullenly handed him the coin. The merchant gave him a funny look but accepted the coin nonetheless. When Sorencio returned with Fiorella's pomegranate, she opened her mouth to tease him again, but he beat her to it.

"Don't' even say it." He turned abruptly from her and continued on. Fiorella really didn't mind it this time; she was content enough with the fact that she wasn't the only one who made mistakes, and the fact that she now had her own pomegranate. Soon enough the absolute least rays of sunlight left the skies and the lamps were being lit. Fewer people lined the street and those who did were grubby and sinister looking. She put a hand to the dagger on her belt, wondering whether tonight would be the first night that she would use a blade or not. She prayed that she wouldn't have to, but it was somewhat of a reassurance.

The thought of the blade brought the thought of Sorencio's ease with death. It was a horrible thing, having to kill another for one's own gain, but these assassins lived with no regrets or remorse. At least that's what Sorencio had shown here these past couple of days. Perhaps the older, wiser ones knew and did not kill, but she could not be so sure. She could not even be sure of her safety if she was walking with a man like this. She trusted Claudia, his mother of sorts, and Claudia trusted Sorencio, but could she trust Sorencio. At any time he could turn around and stab her, if it was to his benefit. Suddenly the world didn't seem like such a nice place any more. Fiorella laughed inwardly. Only a few days ago, she had thought she understood how things worked, and what people were inclined to do. But these past few days away from her sheltered life had made her realize that she might never understand why people did things. Sorencio couldn't be that bad, could he? There had to be some sort of reason that he shed blood so freely? But if there was Fiorella had yet to discover it.

Suddenly a nudge on her shoulder jerked her out of her thoughts. She and Sorencio stood at the docks where he had climbed out of the river under the papal bridge. Had all of that time passed so quickly? Had all of those turns and streets blurred?

"We are here, but we still need to cross. I would swim but it is rather late and you could catch cold." Sorencio's voice was quiet and soft. The fact that He could be insulting her strength didn't register in Fiorella's mind. She was tired form the night's journey and slightly out of it. She mumbled an acknowledgement that he apparently wasn't happy with. He frowned this time speaking a little harsher.

"We cannot cross unless we swim and unless you can instantly dry yourself, I doubt greatly that that shall be happening. Do you have any ideas?" he crossed his arms over his chest, his moment of peace over.

Fiorella looked up and around. A few feet away was a small gondola. She smiled and turned to the taller boy.

"Do you know how to row?" She asked.

"Of course, what kind of a question is that?" For a change, Sorencio looked insulted.

"Because we are going to take that boat." Fiorella started walking over to where it was tied up and began unraveling the line.

"You mean we are just going to steal it?" He asked sounding incredulous. But Fiorella reminded herself that he couldn't possibly be feeling that way, if he had feelings at all.

"Yes, and?" She kept her gaze fixed on the ropes.

"That's someone's boat, we can't just take it." He placed his feet in a steady position, gearing up for a stubborn fight.

"Well you stole that woman's purse with no problem. I see no difference." She continued getting the boat ready for departure, stepping into the boat, stumbling slightly as it swayed and coiled the length at the bottom.

"You don't understand. That woman was wearing gold earrings. She could spare the money. No commoner goes around in their finest jewelry," Sorencio said like it was the most apparent thing in the world.

Fiorella interrupted, looking up at him for change, "Really? I hadn't noticed, she looked common enough to me…huh." She looked back to her work.

Sorencio huffed. "Obviously. You weren't trained to notice things like that. I was. But that's not the point. This is someone's job, their only source of money possibly. Especially if this is a fisher man's boat, which by the smell of it I think it is." Sorencio looked away in disgust.

Fiorella stood up straight. "Look, do you want this to be over with or not? The only way I see across this is by this boat. Now If you wanted to, we could waltz right on up to the Papal guards and tell them that we're just going to march into the Vatican armed and dangerous,"

"Well you're not really armed. Or dangerous for that matter." Sorencio said to the side.

Fiorella ignored him and continued. "But I doubt anyone would take that well. I could tell them that I live in there but with what I'm wearing, plus the fact that It would feel like lying, and I'm a terrible liar, this is our only option. She finished with the ropes and cautiously got into the boat. She looked to Sorencio.

"Coming or not?" Sorencio stood there for a few moments and Fiorella was just about to leave herself and let him get across his own way, but then he stepped into the boat and sat grabbed the single oar. Fiorella sat down on the single old bench in the small gondola and let Sorencio pole his way across the river. They landed with a gentle thunk on the other side, and Fiorella stepped out of the boat. Sorencio moored it to the small dock and they set off, Fiorella taking the lead now that she was in familiar territory.

When they entered the town square, a familiar voice sounded from the shadows.

"Get away from her!" The voice wasn't loud, only venomous.

"Severnio?" Fiorella stepped closer to the shadows, straining to see a familiar face. He stepped out into the lamplight and glared at Sorencio. Fiorella's heart soared, and she rushed over to him, so happy to see him. She hugged him tightly and his arm snaked around her.

"What are you doing here, _sporcizia_. (Filth)" He sneered. Sorencio took a step back, surveying this new person.

"On what grounds do you insult me? I have done nothing but returned your precios little _giocattolo_ (Plaything)." Sorencio spat at the gorund, not exactly insulting Severnio and not exaclty avoind it either. Severnio growled, talking a step towards Sorencio.

Firella disentangled her self form Sevenio's grasp. She walked over to Sorencio and slapped him, the sound echoing through the empty streets. "That was for how you treated me this entire time," She slapped him again, this time a little softer. "And that was for calling me that." She turned on the spot, walking to a spot a little behind Severnio, and crossed her arms. Severnio looked slightly amused, but was still glaring daggers at Sorencio.

Sorencio looked to Fiorella and Sever nio and laughed. "Good job _bella_, you let your anger get the best of you. And as for you," He looked at Severnio. "You and your business are below me, but I shall have a word with the girl before you two lovebirds stalk off into the night." He grinned evilly, sending shivers down Fiorella's spine.

"Why, she obviously doesn't want to talk to you!" Severnio blocked his path. Sorencio rolled his eyes, looking past Severnio to Fiorella.

"Oh relax, i'm not going to hit her back. Please, tall this Idiota that I'm not going to harm you." He locked eyes with her, willing her to try and defy him. She stood, rooted to the spot, not sure if she would obey him or not. Finally she relented, looking up to Severnio with sad eyes.

"It's fine." She walked over to him, but Severnio looked after her hoveringly. "What do you want?" She hissed. Sornecio walked a little ways from Severnio, keeping his eyes on him.

"Get as much information as you can but for now, meet me here, Sunday morning in two weeks." His voice grew louder. "And tell that dog of yours to learn some manners." Fiorella stepped back, wanting to get away from him.

"Okay, I think you should be done now." Severnio's voice interrupted them. He walked to where Fiorella and Sornecio stood, pulling Fiorella back to him. "Begone, and do not come back."

Sornecio just glared at him, but took off into the darkness. Fiorella stood still, thinking over Sorencio's request. After a while she turned to Severnio.

"You didn't have to be so rude you know. I can handle myself." She backed away from him a bit, frowning at him. He sighed and looked away.

"I just wanted you to be safe." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yes but you acted like we were married! Isn't that a bit much?" Fiorella crossed her arms over her chest, a cool breeze wafting into the square.

"We practical are! Or we should be!" Severnio exploded, throwing his arms into the air. Fiorella just stood there, her frown deepening.

"You know how I feel about that Severnio. But I guess you just can't respect me and let me make my own decisions." She turned and started to walk away, determined to find her own way home. The feel of her own bed sounded sooo good to her.

"Wait! That's not what I meant!" Severnio clattered around behind her, catching up to her. He trotted in front of her, making her stop. "Look, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have acted that way. I just...got a little protective. I care about you Fiore." His eyes burned as he used her nick-name. "You were gone for two days! Do you know how crazy I felt?" She sighed.

"I know. I guess I'm just tired." She looked down at her feet, which suddenly felt heavy and sore. "Walk me home?" She asked. He smiled warmly.

"Of course. Although your father won't be happy about this." Severnio laughed a little. Fiorella groaned, She had almost forgotten how much trouble she was going to be in. But it could wait. Right now she was dead tired.

"Oh well, It can wait until tomorrow. Then I'll do all the punishment Pappa wants me to do."

***Hey I know that technically Columbus didn't discover America and they weren't technically called the Indies, they were the Caribbean's, but that's what the people of this era believed, so hey.* Again.. I am soosososo sorry for this being late. You can murder me if you wish but then you wouldn't have any more story, and you murdered me for that very reason. So I suggest that if you want faster updates, then you should review! Haha! XD**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey Guys! How were your holidays? Good? Good! Did anyone get Revelations for Christmas? Well, that's good. Anyhow, this chapter needs to get going. Don't forget to review! **

**Disclaimer( I've been meaning to do one….urgh) I don't own Assassins Creed. I merely enjoy it.**

Fiorella started walking, and Severnio came up and took her hand. She was too tired to protest. He studied her, a quizzical look on his face.

"What?" She asked. She knew she probably looked a mess, but she couldn't help it.

"What are you wearing?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. Fiorella blushed, and looked down at herself. She was still wearing the borrowed assassin robes.

"Oh, um, it's a long story and I'd rather not talk about it." She said sheepishly. Besides, how could she explain the last two days without getting herself into more trouble?

"Alright, but where is your dress?" He asked, a little annoyed. Severnio had very fixed ideals of what women should be, and wearing trousers was not one of them. Fiorella motioned to her bag.

"Do you want to put it back on? I'm not sure your parents would be very happy with their daughter arriving home looking like that." She said, eyeing her current apparel like it was the devil.

"Why? You don't like it?" Fiorella teased, cocking her hips. She grinned widely at his discomfort.

"Yes, now go change!" He playfully shoved her and she walked away, hiding in an alley. She didn't really want to change in public so she just took off the outer robes and pulled the dress on over her trousers and shirt. No one would notice. She stuffed the outer robes into the bag, and something sharp poked her finger. She looked in and saw the dagger that Claudia had given her. She frowned. She would have to find a way to give the bag and its contents back.

She walked back to Severnio and he smiled approvingly. "Much better. Now let's get this over with."

As Fiorella walked into her house, everything was quiet. It was dark as well. She sighed, hoping she had caught a lucky break and that her parents were asleep. She glanced back out the door, where Severnio still stood, looking anxious. She smiled at him, and he smiled back sheepishly. She took a couple of more steps and yelped as the sound of a candle being lit and the light spewed everywhere. Standing, in her night robe, with dark circles under her eyes, stood Fiorella's mother.

"Where have you been?" She asked, completely furious. Her face was contorted with an odd mixture of rage and worry. Fiorella tried to think of something, anything to say that would throw her mother off her back, but then her father came rushing down the stairs, in his nightclothes as well. His hair was in disarray, and he looked even more worried, if it was even possible.

"What's going on?" He asked, having not seen Fiorella yet. He looked around for something out of place, and then noticed his daughter. At first, there was a wash of relief over his face. Then the storm hit. He rushed down the last bit of stairs his face reddening.

"Where have you been? Do you know how worried your mother and I have been? You could have been killed what with an assassin on the loose!" He yelled at her. Fiorella flinched, not expecting such a show of anger.

"_Mio caro,_ calm down." Her mother consoled her father. Severnio stepped in just then.

"_Mi scusi,_ but I may be able to help." He said, looking completely cal m and unfazed. He walked over to her, easily sliding his arm around her waist, pulling her close. She started to protest, but he leaned in, whispering something in her ear

"Just play along, I'm saving you a lot of trouble here." Fiorella smiled, looking up at him with a relieved expression.

"What is the meaning of this?" Her father demanded coming down to shake a finger in Severnio's face. He remained cool and collected, as if there was a perfectly good explanation for all of this nonsense.

"Well, you see," he looked down at her, as if she were the best thing in the world. Which, by the look her parents were giving her, she wasn't.

"Get on with my dear boy!" Fiorella's mother said, looking more anxious by the minute.

"After the attack, I didn't want her to walk home alone, so we retreated to my villa, as it was closer. I figured that I could walk her home in the daylight the next day." He laughed, and blushed a bit. "But I guess we lost track of time together." At this he grinned wider. Fiorella forced herself to look at him longingly. She knew that this would throw her father off her tail. Her mother might persist, ground her for a couple days but Severnio had lightened the burden considerably.

Signore Abette smiled. "Ah. Yes, I understand how that can be." He looked over and kissed his wife in the cheek. He smiled at the pair, and then wandered back up the stairs.

"Do get to sleep soon dear; it looks like you need it." He called after himself. Signora Abette still had a worried look on her face, with lips pursed and brows furrowed; it looked like Fiorella wasn't out of the clear just yet.

"Don't think that you won't be punished just because your father is a lovesick fool. You are not to leave the house or see Severnio for the rest for the week. If you do leave you must be escorted at all times by one of the scullery maids." After her sentence had been given, Signora Abette rushed over to her daughter, hugging her fiercely.

"I was so worried." She said softly. She pulled back and looked in to Fiorella's eyes. "Don't you ever do that to me again, you hear?" Fiorella's mother turned to the stairs, before her daughter could see the tears forming in her eyes. She walked up the stairs, slowly and tiredly. When she was at last out of sight, Fiorella turned to Severnio.

"Thank you." She said. She walked out from under his arm, which had been resting around her waist for a little too long.

"It was no problem. Besides, if I had not stepped in, I'm certain things would have been much worse." He chuckled slightly at this, grinning at Fiorella.

"Well, it is still much appreciated, even though I feel so terrible for lying to them. I will have to visit Father Antonio and confess. I do not want this burdening me." She said. Besides, it would look good if the only thing she did when she was under house arrest was to go to the church.

"Alright. Get some sleep. I'll see you in a few days time. Until then, stay safe." Severnio quickly leaned in and kissed her on her forehead. It was a quick light kiss, but it still made Fiorella feel uncomfortable.

He left, and Fiorella shut the door behind him. She sighed, and made her way upstairs with the candle her mother had left for her. When she reached her room, she sighed contentedly. It was good to be home. She slipped out of her dress, fidgeting to get the complicated laces and ties undone. Her recent freedom of movement that the assassin robes had provided was wonderful, and she had not wanted to give it up when Severnio had asked her to change. But she had complied reluctantly anyways, knowing that her parents would throw a fit if they saw her in them. She threw her dress on her bed, now in her shirt and trousers.

Fiorella smiled happy to be rid of the stuffy fabric, for it was begging to get hot. She wondered how she ever survived it to begin with. She wandered out onto her balcony which had a view onto the streets below and a few villas and houses across the way. The night breeze felt good on her skin, and she breathed it in, feeling revived.

"Well you took your sweet time." A bored voice sounded form out of nowhere. Fiorella jumped, and squeaked, looking around for the source. There, standing on the rail and leaning on the wall, was Sorencio.

"_Mio dio!_ What are you doing here?" She hissed. He jumped down from the rail, a smirk evident on his face even though it was hidden in shadow. He crossed his arms, leaning against the rail.

"I told you. I have to look after you." He said. It seemed he was getting quite annoyed with her.

"Wait, what? I thought that was later!" Fiorella backed up a bit, not too keen on getting near him.

"No, it started as soon as you told me your father was close to the pope. Now tell me. Does he support the Pope's recent decisions?" He asked, his voice growing serious.

"Yes, but what does that-."

"Because it means that you are stuck in I this situation deeper than I first thought." He said, cutting her off. Fiorella grew confused. It seemed to her that Sorencio wasn't telling her everything. She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.

"What do you mean?" She asked. If her family was in danger, she wanted to know about it.

"Well you see, actually you probably don't, but anyways. There is a man, who does not like what the pope is currently doing. Our guess, us meaning the brotherhood, is that that man is someone who is close to the pope. Someone who once worked for the Borgia and was close to them. When the new pope came into power, he probably 'repented' to keep his power and position and junk. That means he does not like that this new pope is passing edicts and decrees that in the end, support us." Sorencio looked out into the Vatican, his face impassive.

"That is why we need your help. Do you know anyone who might be like that?" He asked. Fiorella was stunned, she had asked him once before why should would do such a thing and he had brushed her off, merely stating that he pope was in trouble, but when he told her more, things started to fit into place.

"Uhm…." Fiorella racked her memory, her father never really talked about his work, and when he did it was to praise the pope and his wisdom. Although she did remember over hearing her mother and father talking in the kitchen one evening about a certain man, whom her father was not very fond of.

_Fiorella sat at a wash basin, cleaning dishes as part of a punishment for breaking a precious vase. Behind her, her mother and father talked in hushed tones, but now and again, their words would reach her ears, and when they did, they scared her._

"_But that's not the issue." Her father steamed. "The problem is that Toscano is trying to get the Holy Father to refute the new edict. If he does, that means thousands of Romans could lose their houses and families" His face was livid. And her mother looked slightly worried._

"_Well… I don't want to sound so selfish, but would it affect us at all?" She asked, she worried at a silver necklace that Signora Abette had given her a few years back._

"_That's just it. You don't sound selfish _mio caro_, I felt the same way when it was first proposed. It could hurt us, greatly too if the tax is raised as high as he proposed." He sighed, running a hand through his thinning and graying hair. Fiorella gasped at this, and almost dropped the dish she was currently holding._

"_Sweetie, if we have to, maybe we could we bribe him?" her mother out her hands on his arms, turning to look him in the eyes._

"_Maybe, but that's a crime and if anyone finds out they could use it to their advantage and then we'd be in a bigger mess." _

"Toscano. That's all I know. But apparently he had wanted to raise taxes quite high and my father disapproved." Fiorella said, her expression worried as she recalled the memory.

"Well that's a start." Sorencio said. He slid down the rail to a sitting position, his hands on his head. Then his head snapped up, his eyes wild.

"Wait, did you say Toscano, as in Ignazio Toscano?" He asked. Fiorella didn't know if that was his first name or not, but it sounded right. She nodded and he bolted upright, grabbing her by her arms.

"Is there anything else you know? _Anything?_" He asked, shaking her a bit. She looked into his eyes and saw a burning emotion; one she didn't think would be very safe

"N-no that's it, I'm sure." She said, slightly scared of him. He let go, running a nervous hand through his hair, and walked over to the banister, hunching over it.

"And your father strongly disagrees with this man?" He asked her.

"Yes and the Holy Father trust's Papa's judgment." She said, quite proud of her father.

He turned away from the banister, looking at Fiorella seriously.

"If I am right, then Toscano will try to silence your father if he tries to defy his suggestions again." Fiorella gasped. "When is his next meeting with any officials?"

"Uhm, Papa usually has his meetings early in the morning, I'm not sure when his next one is, but I can ask him tomorrow."

"Alright well, that's good." He sighed, the light from the Fiorella's room shining in his hair. "I need to get a message to the den; do you have any couriers or something?" He turned and looked to her.

"My father has a pigeon coop somewhere on the rooftop, but he never allows me to go near it. You could use those." She said, starting to back up against the door to her room.

He nodded."Good, I will use that. Tomorrow we will discuss how you get the information we need. Do not ruin anything while I am gone." He said, and before Fiorella could respond he jumped and caught the roof ledge, pulling himself up and out of view. She huffed, then turned around and stomped back into her room. She flung herself onto the bed, not caring that she was still wearing her trousers and shirt, but managing to pull of the boots. She dug herself in under the covers and sleep soon over took her.

**Hai guys! New chappie! Yay! And right in time for new years! Wonderful! Please leave a review and ba da da da da da da doo doo subscribe! Outro of darkness then redness then whiteness then BOOP! =(c) Toby Turner**


	8. Chapter 8

**Blergh. That is all I have to say for now. REVIEW PLZ!**

**Discalimer: I do not own Assassins Creed, Ubisoft does.**

When Fiorella awoke the next morning, the sun had been shining brightly for several hours. She awoke to a faint clicking sound in the corner of her bedroom. She looked up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. There, in one of her fine stuffed chairs, sat Sorencio, messing around with some metal contraption strapped to his wrist. He sat, slouched in the large and comfy chair, with one leg hanging over the arm rest. Fiorella mumbled some incoherent insult, and got out of bed.

"You're still here?" She asked sourly. She walked over to a wash basin and splashed some cool water on her face. The breeze coming in from the open window turned her wet face chilly and she dried with off with a nearby towel.

"Yes of course. We need to get started on your research you know." He didn't look up from his wrist. She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and cocked her hips, glaring at him.

"What makes you think I'll be doing anything today, huh? I barely escaped with my life last night!" She fumed, throwing her arms out and glaring at him pointedly.

"If you're talking about your parents, then I must say that they will be a small formality by the time you're done with me." He smirked, eyes still glued to his contraption. Fiorella glared daggers at Sorencio, and then her temper boiled over. She stormed over to him and took his wrist, making him look up at her.

"What is this that you find interesting enough to not even _look_ at me?" She demanded. His eyes burned with hatred, and he jerked his arm away from her.

"Something that is beyond your comprehension." He said icily. He stood, making Fiorella stumble backwards a bit, and looked down at her, anger boiling within him. "Now when you feel grown up enough to save the world as you know it, meet me at Ciobatti's farm. Until then, I suggest you shut up and learn to have more respect." He then turned on the spot, leaving her stunned and speechless as he jumped out of the window and bounded away on the rooftops.

Sorencio's sudden change in attitude was amazing and Fiorella doubted she could ever get used to it, not that she wanted to. She sighed and sat down in the chair that Sorencio had just been in, and sat back. She wondered how she could ever have gotten herself into this mess and then realized that it was her own stupid curiosity. She knew that she wouldn't be able to leave the house unless accompanied by the maid, and even if she could get a maid to go with her, how could she explain that she was going to Ciobatti's farm? The thought that she could just blow off Sorencio and the papal situation entirely crossed her mind, and she wondered why Sorencio had to pick her to use as a spy. She was just some girl who lived in the Vatican. There were plenty of those, right? Why couldn't he just use one of the other daughters of the important people in Roma? Why did he have to choose her? She was no spy, she couldn't even lie properly. She decided that if and when she would see Sorencio next, she would have to tell him that she couldn't do this; that it didn't sit right with her morally and she did have the skill.

A light knocking on her door made her jump, Bianca the head maid, entered after given permission.

"Signora, You mother wishes you to go and fetch some eggs for her from the farm; she needs them to bake a specialty of hers. She told me to tell you that I need to accompany you as well." Fiorella froze. She wasn't expecting her mother to allow her out of the house let alone let a perfect opportunity to do so fall into her lap. She didn't think she would have to see Sorencio again so soon, and she definitely didn't want to. She definitely wouldn't be able to just bypass him as Ciobatti's was the closest and she wasn't about to go out of her way just to avoid him.

She knew that there wasn't much else she could do. She stood up and thanked Bianca, telling her that she would be ready to go momentarily. She walked over to her dresser and pulled out a plain dress, nothing to gaudy or fancy, and nothing with a million layers or beads to weigh her down. Reluctantly, she pulled off the trousers and shoved them to the very back of her dresser, wondering when the next time she was going to be able to wear them would come. When she was ready and had her basket, they headed east out of the Vatican. The houses were less fancy and more sparsely spaced here. The clothes were plainer and there was a feel of usefulness in the air, as if nothing was just for decoration around here. Whenever Fiorella had to go to Ciobatti's farm, she enjoyed this atmosphere. She noted that It somewhat reminded her of the assassin's den during her brief visit.

All too soon she arrived and the unmistakable scent of farm animals was in the air. Her nerves grew as she rounded a corner and spotted a familiar dark shape looming in the shadows by the barn. She chose to ignore him for now, going to the front where Signore Ciobatti preferred to peddle his wares.

A few people were there, sorting through fresh produce, eggs, freshly butchered meat, and grains. Signore Ciobatti was standing at a table talk to his wife, and soon turned to Fiorella as she approached.

"Ah, mi bella! To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked, spreading his arms wide, and smiling. Fiorella laughed and smiled a hello to his wife, who smiled back and sauntered away.

"You can thank my mother and her 'special' dishes that she constantly makes." Fiorella gave a small laugh.

"Well please take your time and choose whatever you need." Signore Ciobatti smiled and went back to a pile of dried olives. Fiorella walked over to the eggs and selected a few good looking ones, putting them in the basket and handing it to Bianca.

"I'm going to look at the flowers they have. Feel free to look around and buy whatever else you think is necessary." And she left the older woman to look over the dried herbs. Fiorella walked over in the general direction of the flowers but deviated a little form the path, instead going over to where the familiar figure hung out amid the shadows and piles of hay.

"What?" She asked blatantly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Cheeky as ever I see. No matter, at least you seem to have cooled down from this morning." Sorencio smirked, placing the blame of their little tiff solely on her. She fumed, but kept her mouth shut, knowing it was pointless to argue.

"Well I want you to know that this is going to be no walk in the park. To keep you from being discovered and to keep me from having to rescue you every other second, I'll be teaching you a few things. These little meetings will need to be kept a secret and you shall meet me here, every night, starting tonight, as soon as everyone is asleep." Fiorella opened her mouth to argue, but Sorencio continued on.

"I will be teaching you how to use a simple dagger to defend yourself, don't worry I'm not turning you into some blood-thirsty maggot." At this he rolled his eyes and Fiorella scowled at him.

"But Papa stays up late, _a lot._ How am I to sneak out, especially if I am in trouble already?" Fiorella was growing tired of his constant assumptions that she could just go and do whatever he told her to do.

"You can think of that later. It is of no consequence to me what your familial state of affairs is." He waved this statement away, leaving Fiorella in even more of a rut. "I will also teach you to listen for the important stuff and how to listen without getting caught. You won't be perfect by the time of your father's next meeting, but you will be sufficient. Which leads me to my next point; from here on in, you will need to pretend to be more interested in your father's business. Now I know it is not the place of a Lady to be involved with such things, but just argue to him that even thought this is true, it is important enough for you to at least learn how to manage your future family's finances." Sorencio looked over at his spy-in-training and grinned maliciously, his smile even brighter in the shadows.

Fiorella was stunned. He thought about more than he let on. It seemed to her that once she got sneaking out covered, his plan was seamless. Which was important. "Now go, your maid is getting bored." He turned her around roughly and pushed her along. She moved dumbly through the crowd, too preoccupied to really do anything over than walk along.

"Ah, there you are Signora. Did you find anything of interest?" Bianca asked. Fiorella looked up, and saw her basket filled with basil, oregano and sage, along with a prime cut of lamb.

"Uhm…no, not really." She took a few moments to compose herself then smiled brightly at the head maid. "Let's get going, shall we?"

Later that evening, after the dinner was done and the dishes were put away, after Signore Abette had told his family all about his day, and after Fiorella's mother had gossiped all about the Lady next door, they retired to their respective offices and libraries and sitting rooms to get in a little more work, or a little more leisure before the day was spent. Fiorella went outside to the villa's courtyard and sat with a cup of warm wine under the large laurel tree. She looked up at the stars and wondered about life's mysteries. As she sat, her mind wandered to how she was going to sneak out. It was so unlike her and so different from what she would normally do, it was difficult to think logically about it. Of course she could go along with Sorencio's suggestion and just leave when everyone was asleep, but she would so much rather let her parents know that she would be going out. Of course they wouldn't let her go by herself, during the night, when she was in trouble. And that was where the impasse lay.

She was thoroughly stuck….She sipped the wine and her mind grew groggy. She was still terribly tired, and if she was going to sneak out every night it was most certainly not going to help. She yawned and decided she should just go to bed and not go to Ciobatti's. The fate of the world could rest one night surely? Besides, maybe if she didn't show up she could convince Sorencio to just let it all go and show him she couldn't do this. She yawned again and that decided it. She wouldn't show up and that would be that. Sorencio would just have to find someone else. The house was dark and quiet when she went back in. Slowly she made her way to her room and managed to get ready for bed, slipping into her bed and letting the realm of sleep overtake her. That night she dreamt of flowers, farms, and a certain dark haired assassin.

**Well, what did you think? Is she being to wussy? Should she just sneak out and deal with it anyways? I don't know. But hey, if you do, you should let me know. Review Please!**

**~Ciao!**

**adrine R.227**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hola. I don't own Assassins Creed. We all get that. MOVING ON!**

Signore Abbette nodded to the footservant who held the door open for him, as he carried his papers over to the long, dark wooden table in the center of the room. At the table sat several of the nobles already, each wearing fancy and poufy robes and hats. The Holy Father himself stood at the opposite end, facing a large picture window that opened to a view of central Roma. From there he could watch over all of his children and protect them from the evils of the devil. Abbette cleared his throat, letting his awfully large stack of papers fall heavily and noisily onto the table. The pope made no move to turn, but instead welcomed him.

"Greetings my son. What news do you bring us?" He said. He was absent-mindedly fiddling with his papal ring, hands clasped behind him and in full view of those who sat at the table.

"Only the news that I have been telling you since the end of the fall; that if you don't lift this embargo on foreign traders, it will kill our foreign relations! We look like a stubborn child who will not except help right now." Signore Abbette did not like talking to the Holy Father like this, it not only didn't help his case, but it felt wrong.

The pope turned, and all could see his wizened face, almost hiding behind the large white robes that declared his position.

"Yes, but my son Toscano says that if we keep foreigners out of our markets, then Roman money will stay in Roman hands. We need to strengthen our economy, and giving everything we have to traders not from this country will not help." Ignazio Toscano, Signore Abbette's arch rival smiled at him from across the table. He had convinced the pope that his position on where Romans' money should go was right. "Besides, Spain has been rather bothersome on that front.

"I understand Holy Father, but surely you and the Spanish king could make a compromise?" Signore Abbette sighed, putting his hands on the table and leaning on it.

This situation was getting worse and worse. His supporters had dwindled down to nothing because of Toscano's efforts. He had lied, cheated and swindled his way into the Pope's palm and was now sitting pretty. From there he had threatened the life of those who supported Abbette and his ideas, and was probably behind the mysterious death of those who refused to support Toscano instead. Now all who were left on Abbettes' side were his long friend and consultant, Rosario Gianfo, father of Severnio. Unfortunately, he was not able to help him with Toscano directly. He had recently been imprisoned for association with Assassins, which was basically treason.

Toscano then spoke up "Perhaps we should adjourn this meeting. We seem to be getting nowhere." It was the most sensible suggestion he had made all day, although Abbette suspected that he just wanted to talk to the pope alone so that he could reassure him that his ideas were good ones.

"Indeed. We will take lunch and then meet again later this afternoon. May the respite refresh your minds my sons." With that the Holy Father left. Abbette sighed and took out his note book to hastily scrawl down points on the meeting, that he might transcribe them later for future reference points for arguments.

The noise from the market was not unbearable, but quite the opposite really. It was common and comforting to Fiorella, and as she shopped, her maid Bianca behind her at a certain distance always, she felt more and more as if the terrible episode with the- it almost was undesirable to say it- assassins, was like a nightmare. She was a normal girl surely nothing so exciting could happen to her, she certainly couldn't figure out what lead her to follow after Sorencio in the first place, as it was such an uncharacteristic choice of hers. She couldn't even sneak out for goodness sakes!

When she had woken up earlier that morning she had almost expected Sorencio to be in her room again, but he wasn't. She expected to see him turn up as she wandered her courtyard after breakfast, but he hadn't. She was almost certain she had seen him in the shadows when she had left for the market, but again, to no avail. Fiorella couldn't figure out if she felt relieved or disappointed each time he wasn't there, but it didn't matter. She was confident now that she could convince him to leave her alone, that she couldn't do this, and was certain that if he did happen to show up, he would have no choice but to comply.

Therefore it startled her very much when a dark stranger came up behind her, a sharp object poking her back, and ordered that she walk slowly over to the nearest alley. Bianca unfortunately wasn't close enough to see that she was being attacked. Fiorella was too startled to look and see who it was or to scream, but it would have been useless. When the two had made their way into a cordoned off garden, the stranger let her go, walking a little ways away from her. He let his hood down and Fiorella saw that it was Sorencio. He looked angry, extremely angry, and there where dark rings around his eyes, as if he had not slept well.

"You see, this is exactly why you need training. I could have been a robber for all you seemed to care!" He spat out, throwing his arms out in exasperation. Fiorella said nothing. Just sat down on a nearby bench and wondered how mad he was. She soon got her answer.

Sorencio continued to rant, pacing back and forth, not finding the patience to look at her, all the while managing to trample a particularly pretty flower beneath him. "Why didn't you come last night? You think you can just blow me off like that! If you don't know how to defend yourself, this entire thing could fall apart in front of us. Do you know what's at risk here?" He yelled. His back was to her, and she knew that this was her time to let him know.

"Because-," But she stopped, her mouth open mid-sentence. He had turned to her. His eyes were wild and furious, and he looked completely sure that her mess up would be the end of him. Her explanation died on her lips, and she could almost feel his hurt and betrayal. Almost, just not enough.

"Because why?" He demanded, breathing heavily, still facing her. She swallowed, not as sure of herself as she had been earlier.

"Because I'm not the right person for this." She said meekly. When he said nothing, she went on, finding a little more courage, hoping he would understand; because for some reason, it felt terribly wrong to have him angry with her. "I can't lie or fight or gather the information you want."

"Why?" He said quietly, his face still serious.

"Because I'm not that kind of person!" She blurted out. "I'm not a thief or a cut-throat or any of those things. I'm a delicate Lady, I can't, no, won't do any of those things, they are degrading! I can't even believe that I followed you in the first place!" Fiorella regretted the words as soon as she said them for she saw a brief flash of hurt cross Sorencio's features. But she was still determined to get him to understand. "Why can't you get some one more suited to the job? I have no experience with such things, and I doubt I would be able to learn any of the things you are proposing fast enough. Even if it is just because my father has connections to the pope, certainly there are others who would be better suited for this!" She whined.

Sorencio let out a long, frustrated chuckle. He looked down, running a hand over his face and through his hair. When he looked back up, his eyes were even more crazed. It worried Fiorella a little.

"No." He said.

"No what?"

"No, there aren't any others who have this kind of a connection to the pope and are loyal to the assassins." He sat on a bench across from her, putting his elbows on his knees and putting his head in his hands. "Not anymore at least…" the last part he said softly, almost to himself.

"Pardon?"

"There was once an informant, but he has recently been imprisoned. He was one of your father's friends I think. Does Rosario Gianfo sound familiar?" Fiorella heard herself gasp. That was Severnio's father. She had no idea that he was entangled in all of this.

Sorencio noticed and raised an eyebrow. "So you do know him."

"Yes, yes. He's my betrothed. Well not really, but that's not important."

"Wait you mean that ugly faced _strappo_ that got in the way when I graciously took you home is your fiancee? I thought he was a brother!" Sorencio looked truly astounded and almost jealous, but of what she had no clue.

"That's not important! The point is my father could be involved in this mess, that is if he was such close freinds with Rosario!" Fiorella's face had gone ashen white.

"No, We have no reason to suspect he knows anything about our true goals. I don't think that should be a problem." Severnio sat back against the rose hued stone behind him, looking annoyed that she needed to know what seemed to him such a trivial thing. Fiorella in the meanwhile sat there, a stunned expression on her face as her world was re-shaped into somtheing she could not identify. She tried to fit the pieces together and when she stepped back to look at them, they were still quite jumbled.

"But I'm still not skilled enough to do this even if you train me. And I doubt that the men at Father's meetings would allow a girl into them." She still doubted herself. Sorencio sprang up, and with a growl, he kicked a rock.

"Look, If you don't do this, there won't be anyone else to do it. I'm sure we can figure out a way to get the information, even if you have to coax it out of your father everyday." Fiorella was still confused, even though Sorencio had attempted to explain on numerous occasions.

"But what's so bad about the other guys? So far it seems as if what they're proposing ins't so bad, whatever they have been proposing lately. So what if they aren't in your favor?" Fioella was wondering if this was merely a perosnal gain thing. Sorencio said nothing in answer but merely stood up and grabbed her roughly by the walked in silent fury. She protested, but she seemed not to hear him. He led her down the road and into the square where Bianca, her maid, stood. She waved quickly at her to let her know she was safe, and Bianca had barely anytime to wave back before Sorencio whisked her to the corner where they had first, where he had been fighting Aturatelli's guards. There sat a beggar woman, in nothing but rags, holding an old cracked earthenware cup. In it were a few bronze coins. Sorencio kept them a respectable distance away, and turned to Fiorella. When he spoke, his words were hard and accented, making sure she understood.

"You remember Autratelli of course? Well he works for Toscano, and Toscano is raising taxes, and imposing edicts that will make people like this woman even deeper in debt. Of course because he has the money, Toscano owns the banks, so the poor borrow from him to pay him, so that they will be ever in his debt. This is exactly the thing we assassins try to rid Roma of. We are the friends of theives, protectors of beggars and defenders of the fatherless. This is why you must help us be rid of Toscano, so that people like Autratelli do not grow fat from his evils."

The immensity and gravity of the situation hit her then. She remembered her father saying how it was important to defend the defenseless, and If this Toscano really was drepraving the homeless of thier needs, then this was something she couldn't ignore. Especially if no one else would help. But she also had to be wary. People could lie easily. Although what sorencio was telling her sounded true enough. She had seen the poor grow poorer every day inside and outside of the Vatican and knew from what her father told her that Toscano was not a nice man.

"Fine, I'll do it. I don't want people like that taken advantage of." She siad, determination in her eyes. Sorencio let out a breath niether of them knew he was holding, and relief flooded his face. He hugged her, briefly and swiftly, drawing back too look at her.

"Thank you. You don't know how many lives you've just saved." Sorencio sounded truly happy.

"But how many have I just condemed?" She said quietly. Fiorella couldn't shake off that no matter which way you turned it, someone would be getting the short end of the stick.

Sorencio looked at her earnestly. "Only those who deserve it."

Fiorella sighed and looked away. Sorencio led her back to Bianca, who was looking at materials for dress making. The sight of her maid brought a thought to the forefront of her mind.

"Wait, what am I to do about you and my family?" She asked him. Now that the storm had passsed and she had agreed to what he was asking, he looked actually quite pleasant.

"Oh I don't know. What ever works-," But he was interrupted by Bianca. She had come up to the pair and was now looking curiously at Sorencio. Fiorella's pulse accelerated. What if she knew him from somewhere? Recognized him as an assassin? If so, they'd be in big trouble.

"I know you from somewhere..." Bianca said, her face srunching up in effort. Fiorella's heart leaped out of her chest. This was it, they had been discovered. She hadn't even begun to help the people she had set out to help.

"I don't think you do," Sorencio said assuredly.

"No, no. I do know you. You're an assassin aren't you? You do have that odd looking bracer like all the rest." Insted of the usual alarm and panic that one might have upon discovering something like this, Bianca sounded assured and merely curious.

"I am sorry Madonna but you must be mistaking me for someone else. I have no idea what you're talking about." Sorencio looked calm and nomal. Crossing his arms over his chest and switching his weight over to his other leg.

"Don't play coy with me. My brother is one of you. You have no need to fear discovery with me." Bianca's eyes glittered and a small smile crept onto her face. Fiorella merely closed her gaping mouth and spluttered, looking for an explanation.

"I don't know who your brother is, really miss, I think you have the wrong person." Fiorella could hear the tiniest bit of nervousness in his voice, but he remained aloof.

"Fine, if I must; 'We work in the dark to serve the light.'" Bianca seemed to be genuienly annoyed now, but there was still patience in her voice. At the words, Sorencio's face lit up, and he smiled, laughing.

"Sorry miss. Just precaution. Now about your brother; I might know him. What's his name?" Sorencio asked, dropping all pretenses. Fiorella looked uneasily at him. How could he be so sure that he could trust Bianca? As she had no idea, she decided to just go along with it.

"Francesco. I've heard he's quite the rowdy one. Is he doing alright, or getting into more trouble?" Bianca asked. She crossed her arms and a remiscent look came upon her face.

Sorencio sighed, a mock serious expression on his face. "That Battiselli kid? I thought you looked familiar. Well yes and no. He's been progressing, but he almost messed up his last assignment. Claudia was not very pleased with him as you can imagine." Memories of the Claudia and of Fiorella's time at the den with the kind woman surged into her head. She invlounatrily smiled. Claudia was like a dotting aunt.

"Ah. I see. I will have to give him a good talking to. Now, may I ask, what exactly is an assassin doing with my mistress?" Bianca's voice was still polite and freindly, except now there was a strong undercurrent to it. Thier banter was light and easy, but it held many discoveries for Fiorella like the fact that Bianca had a brother, let a lone that he was involved with the assassins.

"Wait, hold on, you have a brother?" She asked Bianca, she then turned to Sorencio who had a rather suprised look on his face, "And you know him?"

"Yes. I have known about the seceret war fo the factions for a while now, I just did not realize how close to I really was." Bianca looked pointedly at Sorencio, who turned his head away innocently.

"And you didn't tell me? I thought we were friends!" Bianca was roughly the same age as her, if not a little older, so bonding between the two had been imminent.

The maid shrugged. "You never asked and it was never important." Fiorella just sat there stunned.

"I did not know that one who knew of us lived with the Abbettes, else I would have contaceted you sooner." Sorencio siad, turning back. " I am asking Fiorella here to gather some information for me. Perhaps you can help." Binca's eyes widened, then narrowed.

"You're not getting her into anything that I wouldn't aprrove of, are you?" There was the proctective undertone in her voice again, this time a little stronger.

"Of course not bella donna. The assassins just need a new informant as Signore Gianfo has been improsioned."

Bianca did not seem peturbed by this fact, only wearied. "I should have seen that coming. He wasn't very careful." She said

"Indeed. And this is where we come to an impasse; how to get the information, and how do I guide her without arousing suspicion?" He asked. His face creased in concentration. The two sat there a moent while Fiorellastood, being no help. Slowly Bianca started to say something.

"Well...I could introduce you to the family as a friend looking for work. They have been talking about needing more help aournd the house. As long as you can do basic chores...?" She asked. Sorencio grimaced, but nodded.

"That sounds like the best plan of action."

"Good. Go back to the den for tonight and come back in the morning. Pack light, but make sure you have what you will need. Fiorella and I will wait for you. Now go!" Bianca shooed Sorencio away, who now had a determined light in his eyes. Before long he had disappered into the crowd, and it was as if he hadn't been there at all.

"I cannot belive I was so close and yet so far awawy from the assassins for such a long time!" Fiorella shook her head and grinned at Bianca, who grinned back.

"There are many things in this world which we don't know aboout. Escpecialy the things closeset to us, for those are the things we take advantage of." Bianca shrugged, then took Fiorella's arm and lead her back to the main square. Fiorella sighed and looked to Bianca. She suddenly seemed so much older and wiser than her, even though Fiorella was older than her maid, if only by a few months.

"What should I expect now?" She asked her above the din of the crowd.

"Nothing." Bianca replied a coy smile on her face.

"What? But shouldn't I be prepared for what is to come?" Asked Fiorella.

"No, for there is no expecting what the assassins plan. You must be vigilant and adapt to whatever comes next. This much I have learned."

"Then I fear there will be no getting used to this world I have been thrust into." Fiorella sighed, but pushed her dismay aside. It could wait, for now she had her city to save. Bianca laughed and together they strolled the streets of the Vattican untill the sun was low in the sky.

**Heeeeeyyyyy! So yeah. New chapter. A bit longer and with some other view points. Finaly, we are getting somewhere! I feel that this is the moment we have been waiting for. Review please!**

**~Ciao!**


	10. Chapter 10

_**Heeeeeyyyy. So I was re-reading through the last chapter, and I must apologize. There were some terrible mistakes in there. Not only grammar wise but plot wise. I also apologize for being gone for so long. I have gotten more involved in other passions of mine such as drawing and choir. I have also been hard at work with a different story of mine that has become my pet story. Let me promise to you now that I will work harder on this story to make it the best it can be. I do not own AC3 and I certainly do not own the franchise.**_

"Watch where you're going!" Fiorella hissed as Sorencio passed by, nearly knocking her over with his basket of laundry. Sorencio snarled back at her, not enjoying the fact that during the day, she was in charge.

Fiorella and Sorencio had gotten into a habit over the past couple of weeks. Sorencio would do chores and help out around the house by day, avoiding any and all suspicion that he was teaching Fiorella the basics of self defense as the rest of the house hold was asleep. Fiorella wasn't exactly pleased with the conditions, but it was the best she could do in the situation.

"Where I'm going? You're the one who almost tripped over me!" Sorencio waved a rag form the basket at her menacingly. He had been through all the rooms in the villa, _twice_ and yet it there seemed to be things to wash everywhere. Fiorella huffed and spun around, walking back the way she came, into her father's office. But when she walked in- hoping for peace and quiet since her father was supposed to be at a meeting- she found a man dressed in a dark blue cloak hunched over her father's desk, looking straight into her father's eyes. Neither had noticed Fiorella yet, so she stood stock still, hoping that she could slip back out. She was just about to turn back around when the man in the blue said something.

"You're going to stop getting in the way, you hear? Or else I can't assure that this lovely villa will stay as peaceful as it has been!" The man growled. Fiorella flung a hand over her mouth to muffle the gasp that had almost escaped her mouth. This was not something that she could ignore if her family's safety was involved.

"Signore, you have my deepest apologies, but I do not know what you are talking about." Signore Abbette replied coolly. He looked the man in blue in the eyes and clasped his hands together, resting them on the desk.

"Oh yes you do, and you know exactly who sent me. Back off, or else!" The man twirled around and stormed out of the room. Fiorella shrank back against the wall, hoping that he wouldn't notice her on his way out, but there was no need. He breezed past her without a backwards glance. Fiorella let out a breath that she didn't know she had been holding, and rushed into her father's study.

"Papa! What was that all about? Who was that man?" She asked hurriedly. Signore Abbette let out a sigh and ran a hand over his face, making his age much more apparent.

"Nothing you need to worry about mi bambina. Just business." He picked up a pen and rifled through some other papers, obviously trying to dismiss her, but she would not have it.

"But papa he sounded angry, dangerous even! What's going on?" Fiorella pressed.

"I told you already, just a bit of business! Now don't you have lessons with your mother?" He reprimanded. Fiorella's heart sank in her chest. Her father was usually a peaceful man, and did not yell at her often.

"Yes Papa." Fiorella mumbled, and then slunk out of the room. She certainly didn't want to go to her mother for lessons, but she didn't know of anywhere else. She walked around to the stairs, and then made her way to the kitchen. There, Bianca stood, rolling some dough out on a worn wooden board. Fiorella's eyes lit up. She had been consumed with lessons of every kind lately, so she hadn't spoken much to her friend since Sorencio had first arrived.

"Bianca! How are you?" She asked cheerfully, and bounded toward her, hugging the girl. Bianca laughed, and set down the dough she was rolling, hugging Fiorella back.

"I am good. I got to see my brother earlier. It seems he _has_ gotten himself into trouble. It also seems that Sorencio is fitting in well here. What do you think?" She replied.

"Oh him. It's rather bothersome to see him around all the time. I feel like I have to sneak around like he's taught me every time I see him, like I can't be normal around him." Fiorella shook her head.

"It's alright, you'll get used to it. Besides, if he makes you run too much you can always order that he scrub your floors later!" Bianca snickered.

"Ah, I had not thought of that! How genius!" Fiorella laughed along with the maid conspiratorially.

"And what is it that you ladies are guffawing about back here?" Came a strict voice from behind. Fiorella spun around to face her mother.

"Aww, Mami, I was just taking a little break! Can't I talk to Bianca?" Fiorella asked, knowing she would have to go back to sewing, or memorizing Virgil or some other boring thing her mother had planned for her to do.

"It seems like you just had that break. Now do you have the books I sent you upstairs for?" Her mother asked. There was a hint of a smile to her voice, as she knew that Fiorella had gotten distracted once again.

Fiorella cringed. "No. Let me go get them." Fiorella heaved a sigh then trudged back up the stairs to retrieve the books.

Dinner, as always with the Abbette family, was a peaceful event. Bianca and Natalia, the other household maid, had put together a lovely olive and shrimp vermicelli. Fiorella's mother and father had just begun discussing commissioning a new piece of artwork when Sorencio rushed in. He bowed, stiffly and quickly to the family.

"My apologies for interrupting Signore e Signora Abbette, but there is a courier at the door for you. He says it's urgent." The words had a difficult time finding their way out of his mouth. Sorencio was not used to such formalities, as none were required in the Assassin's brotherhood.

"Ah. Of course. I shall not be long." Signore Abbette arose and headed towards the door. Fiorella glanced towards Sorencio. He waved her over anxiously.

"Uhhhm…It was a lovely meal, but I'm afraid I need…to go…finish a cross-stitch of mine, yes." Fiorella smiled to her mother and scrambled away from the dinner table, leaving Bianca, Natalia and Signora Abbette perplexed. The girl rushed away and into the hallway where Sorencio had disappeared. She found him leaning out of a doorframe, trying to catch a few snippets of Signore Abbette's conversation with the courier.

"What?" She hissed as she neared him. He turned in her direction, and then waved her over to the doorframe.

"What do you notice about him?" He asked cryptically. Fiorella squinted at the message carrier.

"What do you mean? It's just another courier. What game are you playing?" She responded, thoroughly annoyed.

"Just look. What is different?" He said. Fiorella searched the man's face. He looked completely normal. Her eyes roved over his satchel. It was worn like always. She searched his clothes. Hidden weapons perhaps? Nope. She looked behind the man. Was someone following him? But there were hardly any people outside of the Abbette Villa.

"I give up. What am I supposed to be seeing here?" She huffed and crossed her arms, making sure to jab Sorencio in the ribs as she did so. He winced and rubbed his side but made no comment.

"Look harder." He grated. Fiorella sighed and peered again. Not for very long though. As she was scanning the messenger's clothes, he twisted around to show her father something, and she caught sight of two crossed keys and the beehive shaped hat. She gasped.

"It's the Pope's insignia!" She hissed to the boy next to her.

"There you go. Yes, this must be a very important message indeed if the pope's personal courier came to deliver it…" Sorencio trailed off in thought.

"But what could be so important?" She mumbled. Sorencio turned his head to her. Around him Fiorella could see that the conversation between her father and the messenger ending.

"Looks like we'll find out soon enough!" He shoved the girl back into the hallway, making her stumble. He caught her hand and dragged her back to the dining room, letting go just in time to let her compose herself and walk in a head of him, so as to look like they hadn't just been cavorting around.

"Seems like it didn't need that much finishing!" She excused lamely as her mother gave her a questioning look. Sorencio walked around the table and to the kitchen, acting like nothing at all had just happened and that this was all completely normal.

"Oh alright then. Fiorella darling I was wondering if perhaps after this-," Signora Abbette started to say, but Signore Abbette burst into the room, looking hustled and flustered.

"Oh my, darling, is everything alright? You look like you've seen a ghost!" Fiorella watched as her mother got up and went to her father, who did indeed look like he had seen a ghost. He sat down, and fumbled around in his pockets for something. He pulled out the family ring, and started twirling it around his fingers.

"The Holy Father has called an emergency meeting. Apparently one of his personal guards has just been found dead, likely murdered by one of those terrible cut-throat thieves, and he has called for the council to come and attend him tomorrow at dawn." He looked up at his wife, something, possibly hope, gleaming in his eyes. "Do you know what this means?" He asked hurriedly. Signora Abbette shook her head slowly, a confused expression spreading across her features.

"It means that now, because the Pope is rattled and scared, is a good time to get to him! And I have just finished the charts as well! This is wonderful!" He shouted, a smile popping up on his face. He turned to his daughter and looked her in the eye, acknowledging her for the first time since he came into the room.

"I will need help this time around, someone who can keep notes for me as I focus on swaying the Pope. Will you come with me?" He asked quietly, the smile gone from his lips, a serious look replacing it.

"Are you sure that is alright? I mean a lot of those men will disagree to a woman attending the meeting…" Signora Abbette looked to her husband, then to her daughter. Fiorella, on the other hand, stood still, completely shocked by the turn of events.

"As long as they know that the only thing she's doing is taking notes, they will not object. Not in front of the Holy Father." He seemed determined. He looked to his daughter. "So will you accept?" He asked again. Fiorella stood there, flabbergasted. Her mother had brought up a good point. Many Men of Politics did not trust women around their work, especially if that woman was the daughter of another politician. But this was the chance that she needed, to get in and see just how much of a stranglehold Toscano had on the Pope.

"I-uh, of course. I would love to help you." She offered a small smile to her father. Hopefully, this was a step forward, and not three back.

"Do that again. It was sloppy. You need to be fluid and seamless." Sorencio ordered. Fiorella groaned, but ran back to the beginning of the rooftop to perform the attack-fall-roll maneuver again. When she got to the edge of the roof, the spun around, took a deep-breath and took off, running towards an invisible target, and stabbing it with an invisible dagger, then ducking, hitting the roof tiles to dodge its invisible counter-attack. She rolled out of it and turned back around to face the imaginary adversary.

"Better, but you're wasting too much energy on the duck. Let nature do most of the work and let the earth pull you towards itself." He noted. Fiorella nodded, too exhausted to reply. She had been doing this maneuver for half an hour now, doing it over and over. She had gotten it right a couple of times, but every time she tried to replicate what she had done right, she messed up again.

"You know what? Take a break. Practice your balance." Sorencio guided her over to a post that was sticking out of the roof, overhanging the street, for what purpose, she had no clue, but she walked out on to the tiny plank and stood, trying not to fall off with all her might. She fixed her vision on a far-off steeple, trying to focus.

"You know, eventually, you're going to have to do that while free-running." Sorencio commented. She ignored him. She instead pictured her feet on the plank, and mentally bound them to the wood. It helped to reassure her, but not much.

After dinner, Signore Abbette had brought Fiorella up to his study to tell her what she was to do the next day and how to handle herself if anything happened. After everyone had begun to tire and yearn for bed, Bianca made the excuse that she was going to go with Fiorella on a night-time stroll. They had then raced each other to a nearby alley, where Fiorella had stashed her assassin clothes after training the previous night. She quickly changed, then had looked to the wall in front of her. Bianca would stay on the street below, amusing herself somehow then walk her back to the villa once Fiorella was finished, but first, she had to meet Sorencio up on the roof of the villa, and she would have to get there herself. She had surveyed the surrounding area and found a couple of crates stacked upon each other and used them to start up the wall. From there, she found easy foot-holds in window ledges and over-hanging plant balconies. It was far from the almost sheer walls that Sorencio could scale, but it was just as difficult for Fiorella. They had been on the roof for a good hour or two now, training and practicing. Up here, Sorencio was boss, and Fiorella did not like that one bit.

"Plus you're going to have to acknowledge me sooner or later, so it's best if we start practicing on doing two things at once now." Fiorella could hear the smirk in his voice. She sighed again and turned her head towards him.

"What do you want? I don't think distracting me will help any." She asked. She shrieked quietly as she wavered a little, splaying out her arms. Sorencio smirked, but stood close incase anything were to happen.

"I just want to chat." He replied too innocently.

"Yes, because we have not been doing that for the past minute." The girl replied, biting her lip and glaring at the steeple in front of her.

"What did your father say? I heard that he wanted your help with the next meeting, but after that it got quiet in the dining room." He stated.

"You were listening?" Fiorella sounded surprised, but Sorencio frowned.

"Of course. What else would I be doing?" He crossed his arms and shifted his weight.

"You couldn't be patient and wait until I told you after practice?" Fiorella accused.

"No. And besides, I had no idea you were planning to do that." He shot back.

"Fine. Father just told me that he needed my help. I accepted and then he took me to his study for further instruction. It was basically just 'Write everything you can down, Fiorella!' and 'Let me do the talking daughter!' Nothing much really. I suppose I'll give you a copy of the notes once papa has looked them over." She said, absently.

"Hmn, I suppose I could make you snatch them away before he has the chance to read them it would be practice… but then again it would raise too much suspicion." Sorencio smirked, and then poked Fiorella in the ribs, making her shriek yet again.

"Don't do that! Do you _want_ me to fall to my death?" She whipped her head around to him and ran off of the plank, advancing towards him, then hitting him in the gut. He didn't seem to notice, only smirking larger.

"What in the world is so funny that you want me to die for?" She yelled at him.

"Nothing, except for the fact that it worked. You managed to keep your balance while talking to me and while trying to hurt me." Sorencio grinned as Fiorella's expression went slack, and then tightened back up again as she realized what had happened. She fumed at him, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

"Humph!" She huffed.

"Okay, if you feel that way, back to the good stuff!" Sorencio waved to the stretch of roof where Fiorella had been practicing maneuvers.

"Awwww, again?" She whined.

"Yep! Now get going!" He shouted.

The room where Signore Abbette attended the meetings with the pope was oddly silent, but Fiorella didn't know why. This was partially because she had been so engrossed in writing down all the words that were flying across the room moments before, and partially because she didn't want to look up and see.

"What is she doing here?" Someone, Fiorella didn't know who, but she didn't like the tone of their voice, asked. Apparently, now that there was not arguing to be done, people could afford to pay attention to the fact that there was a girl in the room.

"She's just taking notes. Leave her be Toscano." Fiorella's father snapped. Fiorella fought the urge to pull up and meet the eyes of the man who caused all of this trouble.

"Are you sure bringing her is…wise?" he asked again. The way in which he asked the question was similar to the way Sorencio often snidely asked her. She would not tell Sorencio that though, that would only anger him.

"Yes. Now weren't you saying something?" Signore Abbette curtly replied. There was the sound of ruffling fabric as Toscano stood up and looked to the pope.

"Well it seems to me, Oh Holy Father, that the citizens of Rome are growing restless and rambunctious and that they need people out there who need to keep the peace, and watch over everyone. Might I suggest my own contingency of guards?" Tosacno said it as if guards were the best idea ever and that the last time the Papacy had installed guards it had gone wonderfully.

"No, no. Do you all remember how well that went last time?" Fiorella's father said, on the same track as his daughter. "What we need are motivators, perhaps we reward those who do good. A small monetary incentive could surely work wonders." The men at the table looked to Abbette and nodded their consent.

"This is a good idea, but surely we don't have the means to do such things!" Toscano opposed.

"Actually I have done the research and it would work, as long as we monitor it closely." Signore Abbette was not about to just give up and lie down. Toscano fumed, but said nothing.

"This is a good idea, but I would like to look over your findings my son." The Pope said. Signor Abbette gave the papers to the elder man, hoping that he would agree.

"Surely you aren't considering this!" Toscano hurried over to where the Pope sat, reading the pages over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed as he took in the figures.

"Ah but you see here? Abbette is implying that we lower your guard number in order to pay for this little idea, and with recent events that is hardly wise!" He tattled.

"Yes but lowering the number of guards would be a show of trust to the people Father, and that would bring you much closer to them. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, might I say." Fiorella's father rushed to defend himself. Fiorella wrote quicker, knowing this was an especially important part, but just as she was nearing copying down the last sentence, the quill tip broke. Fiorella cursed under her breath, and rushed to get a new one out of the bag that lay at her feet. One of the politicians shot her a look, but the rest ignored her as the exchange between Toscano and Abbette continued.

"The people would not understand it! You think they are educated enough to do so? It would be a sign of weakness in their eyes!" Toscano reeled around to face Fiorella, who still had not yet found a spare quill.

"My dear girl, could you quiet down! We are conducting business here!" He spat at her. Fiorella's cheeks burned.

"I'm sorry, my quill broke, I'm just trying to find a new one-," She tried.

"Silence! Did I ask you to speak? No! Open your mouth again and see where it gets you!" He vented. The pope looked at him over his glasses.

"Is that really necessary my son? Please corral your anger. It is not virtuous." He reprimanded. Toscano's face paled, but his venomous expression stayed put.

"Yes father, excuse my impetuous actions." He mumbled through gritted teeth. Signore Abbette caught his daughter's eye and gave her a warning glance, one that implied that severe reprimand would come after this was all over. Fiorella blanched as well, and she bent her head back to her writing,

"Well my sons, it seems we are at an impasse here. We have two good solutions on our hands to a growing problem; the question is which the better is for our people. I will put up to a vote, as I cannot decide on my own. All in favor of Toscano's idea," The Pope called out. Several of the men raised their hands, and Fiorella's father didn't react, but it was obvious he was worried. Many of the men in the room would side with Toscano. But how may exactly?

"And Abbette's?" The pope called again. The number of hands had dwindled. Many of them had not voted; they were scared to take sides in this war of words.

"I see. It looks like we shall install your guards Toscano. I would ask that you stay after to discuss the details. The rest of you are dismissed." The pope waved his hand, and the group dispersed. Signore Abbette stayed where he was for several minutes, his head in his hands. Finally Fiorella could take it no longer. She got up and went to her father, resting a hand on his shoulder. Surprised, he lifted his head, and smiled helplessly at her. He sighed and hauled himself up, collecting his papers and pens. Fiorella followed suit and soon they were walking down the halls of the Castello.

The silence hung heavy in the air as Fiorella waited for her Father to scold her, but no words came. She did not want to invoke his anger, so she stayed quiet, playing with the tip of the broken quill nervously. They made it all the way back to their villa in silence. Fiorella helped to put away her father's things in the study and she was just about to run to her room for a nap before dinner when her father called her name.

"Fiorella,… I know that you are sorry for what you did, and that you did not mean to show any disrespect, but you have got to be more careful in there! Each of those men, especially Toscano, would not hesitate to hurt you if you offended them in anyway. I don't want that happening to you, so please look out for yourself." His voice was weary and quiet, full of concern and worry. Fiorella swallowed the knot that was beginning to form in her throat.

"Yes Papa." She managed.

"Thank you." Fiorella caught his words just as she was sprinting out the door and into her room. When she got to her room, she saw Sorencio there, polishing her desk. He looked up as she entered, and approached to question her, but she shook her head.

"Please, not now. I–I just need to rest." She choked out. Sorencio gave her a look, but said nothing, and left. As soon as she was sure he was not sneaking around her room, she slumped down onto her bed and let out the sob that had been holding in since she left her father's office. She had messed up, and it had cost her father. It might not have been directly her fault, but it was close. How could she have been so foolish? She knew Toscano was a dangerous man, and yet she spoke anyway. It pained her that her father had to worry about her so. It wouldn't help his case at all. Fiorella lay back on her bed, and continued to sob, letting out all of the stress that had accumulated over the past couple of days up until now.

Fiorella did not realize that she had fallen asleep until something woke her up. It was a soft knocking at her door. She sniffled, and ran her hand over her hair to fix it as much as she could. When she opened the door she saw Bianca. She was holding a tray of hot bread and a wedge of cheese, with a few strips of dried and season meat on the side. She smiled a little, and Fiorella let her in without a word.

Bianca came in and set the tray down on the edge of the bed, and wrapping her arms around Fiorella as soon as her hands were free. Fiorella exchanged the gesture and smiled. Bianca pulled back and brushed a loose strand of the girl's hair back, out of the way of the tears that were still making their way down her cheeks.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bianca asked quietly. Fiorella nodded, but grabbed a small loaf of bread first, ripping off a piece of it and gobbling it up. She had not realized how hungry she was, she must have missed dinner while she was sleeping. She voiced her speculations.

"Did I miss dinner?"

"Yes. Your mother asked where you were, and I told her that you hadn't been feeling well and had wanted to lie down, since I had guessed that you were out practicing with Sorencio, but when I found him in the kitchen eating the left-overs like the pig he is, I knew you really must have fallen asleep. Don't worry. No one is mad at you. What can they except anyway? You are bound to be taking a few more naps now that you have begun to practice at night _and_ you are helping your father." Bianca laughed.

"Thank you for excusing me. I'll have to apologize to Mami later though. Thanks for bringing me a snack as well." Fiorella munched on the rest of the food, relishing how good food could taste when you were hungry.

"Don't worry about it, you are welcome. Besides it gave me a chance to come and see you and get away from Sorencio!" Bianca rolled her eyes. "Who knew he could be so annoying?" This time it was Fiorella's turn to laugh.

"I did. That's why I wasn't so fond of this idea to begin with!" Bianca laughed with her.

"Well, it's getting late. I'll let you freshen up and talk to your mother, and then we can head out. Sound good?" Bianca hugged Fiorella one last time then left, leaving the girl to finish the food. Fiorella consumed the rest of the food gratefully then splashed some water on her face from the nearby basin. She took a deep breath and looked at herself in her hand-held mirror. Her eyes were swollen and red, but there wasn't much she could do about it. She grabbed her cloak and headed out.

_**Heeeey. Look, I'm all done! Yay! Tell me what ya think please! Just hit the review button, It does wonders to how fast a girl updates! Come on, you can do it, just click the button and write a few words, it's not that hard! There ya go! Yeah that button, right there down there!**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Ciao mi amici! So, I just wanted to let you all know that if you would like to join an Assassin's Creed Role play, and you can write, go check out 's profile. She's got a great one running called Restoration. I'd love to see you guys there! Hope you enjoy this chapter! Oh, and I do not own the Assassin's Creed franchise nor do I gain any profit from this Fanfic, other than valuable writing practice and skills.**_

Fiorella exited her room, and headed to her mother's room. At this hour she could probably be found stitching or reading, something relaxing before bed. She neared the cedar door and knocked, the sound resounding across the marble in the hallway.

"You may enter." Came a muffled reply from within. Fiorella heaved the door open and scanned the room. Sitting in a heavy rocking chair near the balcony was her mother, needle and thread in hand. She smiled sheepishly and crossed the room to her mother.

"Ciao Mamma. I'm sorry I wasn't at dinner. I…wasn't feeling well." Fiorella said softly. Her mother smiled and put aside her sowing and spread her arms wide. Fiorella gladly embraced her, breathing in the familiar and comforting scent that always accompanied her mother.

"It's alright mi bambina. Are you feeling better?" The elder woman pulled away and looked into her daughter's eyes in the way only mothers could.

"Si, si. In fact I was considering getting some evening air. Would you care to come with me?" Fiorella was hesitant to ask the question because she and Bianca would be heading out to meet Sorencio, but she knew that her mother would decline, and giving her the option would erase doubts that her daughter would be doing anything she would disapprove of.

"No. Go have some time to relax. But be back soon. You need your sleep. And none of that horrid Turkish sludge you call coffee before bed! I don't want to have to go through that again!" Signora Abbette smiled and hugged her daughter one last time, then shooed her away with a smile. Fiorella grinned and left, hugging the corners of her cloak about her. She raced down the stairs and through the kitchens, into the servant's quarters and to Bianca's room. There she found her friend, finishing the last twists in her braid.

"Ready to go?" She asked. Fiorella nodded and came over to help her friend. She grabbed the piece of twine that Bianca held ready in her hand and tied it tight several times.

"So how was your mother?" Bianca asked as the two headed out and onto the street.

"Oh she's fine. She doesn't have a clue as to what we're really up to, so I suppose that's good." Fiorella continued to walk on, gazing at the merchants and vendors as they packed up their stalls and headed home for the day. The sounds disappeared as the girls turned into a nearby alley way.

"Good, so whats on the agenda for tonight?" Bianca asked, looking up to the rooftops above where Sorencio would be waiting. A flapping noise and a muffled thud echoed across the close walls of the alley from behind the girls. They spun around and saw Sorencio standing atop a few crates.

"Actually, dearest Bianca, we need to report in to Claudia about the guards." He said, a smirk on his face. Fiorella gasped.

"You know about the guards?" She asked incredulously. She had actually wanted to tell him that so she could see his reaction. She was disappointed that he had managed to find the information elsewhere.

"Yes. Your father likes to tell your mother things at the dinner table." He replied, checking out his bracer and picking at a mechanism that had gathered some grime. Fiorella looked at him for a moment, letting herself revel in contempt for him. She sighed and shook the feelings away. She had to work with him after all.

"Alright, well let's get going then." She started towards the exit of the alley, but Sorencio threw out a hand to stop her.

"Are you sure you want to go looking like that? I doubt citizens would ignore a young noble woman flitting across rooftops with a lowly assassin like me." The way Sorencio said the comment made it sound as if doing so would be an unforgivable atrocity, and would somehow end up being Fiorella's fault. She groaned and turned around to face him, shooting him an annoyed glare.

"I'll wait at the exit. Just get changed," He smirked at her again and motioned for her to get going. "Don't worry. I won't peek."

"Just leave already!" She yelled. Bianca snickered a little but went off to fetch Fiorella's training slops. Fiorella glared a hole in Sorencio's back as he swaggered away.

"Hurry. If you're going to Claudia you do not want to keep her waiting." Bianca told Fiorella. She grumbled but complied and changed into the looser clothes under her cloak.

"Are you quite done yet?" Sorencio called from the exit of the alleyway.

"Yes, now move you snot-face so that we can get going!" Fiorella called back. She then turned to Bianca.

"Have fun while we're gone. I hate leaving you behind because I always feel like we're leaving you out, so…go shopping for yourself or something. What is it that you do anyway?" She asked. Bianca smiled and a gleam came into her eyes.

"Oh…you know. This and that." She replied vaguely. Fiorella raised an eyebrow, knowing that there was more to the story.

"Okay, fine. I go to the blacksmith to get my brother's armor repaired." Bianca supplied. Fiorella set her hands on her hips and looked sternly at her friend, implying that she didn't believe one word of it.

"Alright, alright. I sometimes go, to see…." Bianca turned away, trying to hide a blush that had crept into her cheeks.

"What was that? I didn't quite hear that last part." Fiorella poker her friend in the stomach and smiled hugely at her.

"…The blacksmith's apprentice." She said softly. Fiorella squealed and hugged her friend tightly. Bianca laughed and hugged her back.

"Aw, how cute! Well I'm sure he likes you back! I mean, who wouldn't?!" Fiorella let go of her friend, but kept the smile.

"Well get going! Sorencio has probably left without you! Besides, I'm late!" Bianca started off and waved good-bye to her friend as she ran away as well. She raced out of the alley way and spotted the raven haired assassin down the road a ways away from her. He had indeed left her behind, but Fiorella was glad that she wouldn't have to deal with his constant snipes.

She made good time as she followed Sorencio from a distance, managing to mimic his movements for the most part, and even caught up to him as they neared the den. She followed him inside without a word and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the dark of the Assassin's headquarters. Inside it was a scene of quiet life. That was one of the things that surprised Fiorella when she had first come here; the fact that people were always coming in and out and milling around made her think that it should be abuzz with noise, but they all went about their business with a muffled urgency. It was how she imagined an ant colony would sound if she could ever hear one.

"Wait here. I'll go get Claudia." Sorencio told her, and then took off. Fiorella gazed about the den. Scrolls and papers littered every available surface, and some novices stood about talking, a few were demonstrating combat maneuvers to each other.

And of course the den was draped in the ever present red. It was a popular color among Romans and even assassins it seemed. She was about to step forward and examine a display of armor when a hand grabbed her shoulder. She stiffened and whirled around to find Sorencio with his usual solemn expression.

"She's agreed to see us. Come on, let's go." He said, turning towards Claudia's office. His strides were long and often, and Fiorella had bit of difficulty keeping up with him. They rounded a corner and saw that the large oaken door, that separated the two from what lay within, hung slightly ajar. Sorencio neared it and rapped on the wood a few times before entering.

The room was small but comfortable. To the left, the wall was adorned with a large window that over looked the river entrance to the den, and the rest of nearby Roma. Opposite the window wall was a large book case filled with old and new tomes of every hue. Two small pigeon hutches stood beside the book case, both empty, but littered with feathers and droppings. The wall facing the pair held a grand painting of a Tuscan landscape that looked slightly familiar. With her back to the window, Claudia sat behind a neatly organized desk. She wore a heavy tunic and loose trousers. A smile was on her lined face, but her yes betrayed her weariness.

"Ah, Sorencio, Fiorella. What is it you wish to speak to me about?" She asked. Sorencio approached her desk and inclined his head, then went to stand near the painting. Fiorella followed him, bowing her head as well.

"We have imperative news. Fiorella has been doing well, and has gathered that Toscano will soon be putting his own guards-," But he was cut off short as another man burst into the room. He was breathing heavily, and sweat was plastered to his forehead. He quickly ran a hand through his thick black hair and stood straighter.

"Senora Claudia! I have most urgent news!" The man wiped his hands on his green trousers, and glanced about the room, his eyes widening as he noticed Sorencio and Fiorella. "It's,-ah- sensitive, information as well Senora."

Claudia raised an eyebrow, but dismissed the pair "I'm sorry Sorencio, but this will have to wait." She said heavily.

Sorencio huffed but said nothing, turning on his heel and leaving the room. Confused and curious, Fiorella followed, but not without a backwards glance to the man. As soon as she was out of the room, the door slammed shut in her face. Dejected she turned back to Sorencio as he strode down the long hallway.

"Who was that?!" She asked incredulously. She sped up, trying to keep up with Sorencio, who was now jogging through the den with a purpose.

"Mateo; a Spanish informant working for us." He called over his shoulder. He disappeared momentarily as he rounded a sharp corner and ran up a flight of steps.

"Oh. Where are we going? Don't we still need to tell Claudia?" Fiorella asked, swinging around the spiral steps.

"We need to know what's going on in that room." He said simply. He came to a hallway lined with doors, similar to the hall of dormitories that led to Claudia's bedroom when Fiorella had visited earlier, except it felt old, and crisp. Unused and abandoned.

"But we can't be in there…" Fiorella stated, slowing down as Sorencio shook the handle on a door he had stopped at.

"Exactly. But they never said anything about being _near_ the room." Finally the door swung open and Sorencio raced inside. He dropped to the floor and felt around the wooden planks. He seemed to have found what he was looking for as he started to focus on one plank in particular. Sorencio cursed, and then got out a stiletto, shoving it into the small gap between boards. He pressed down on the knife and levered part of the plank up. The plank had been cleverly cut so that it all looked like one piece. The smaller and now loose bit sprung up and clattered onto the boards beside the now rectangular hole in the floor. Fiorella slid to ground opposite him and peered into the inky darkness.

She started to shake her head and looked up at Sorencio.

"I don't get it." She stated. He shushed her then removed a second plank that would be a part of the ceiling of the room below. Light flooded the opening accompanied by voices, soft, but pressing.

"…about Castillo? What exactly did he say?" It was Claudia's voice.

"He asked Toscano if he had accomplished his goal. Then he told Toscano that the Spanish Captain would be ready soon and that Toscano would need to be prepared. He mentioned something about a fruit…" Mateo supplied.

Claudia cursed. "An apple?! Was it an apple he mentioned?" Mateo nodded. Claudia sighed and stood up to pace around the room.

"I always knew those Spanish curs would get involved in Roman affairs. I just didn't know they would go as far as crippling us and then playing savior. That will put them in a bad position for us. Ever since Gianfo got caught we've had no way into those meetings, and although we have a plan in place, it will take a while to become truly effective. At least now we have a general idea of what Toscano is scheming…"

Fiorella didn't get the chance to hear the rest of the conversation as Sorencio pulled her away from the opening. As soon as she was no longer in the way he replaced the ceiling and floor boards, and then pulled her out of the room and back through the way they came.

They soon came to a stop outside of Claudia's office.

"Why…couldn't…we… have just, listened out here?" She asked, out of breath from running all the way down the stairs and to the room.

"Because, that door has been there for fifty years and is thick as my hand is long. If you think we would have been able to hear anything through that, you're insane." Sorencio was leaning against the nearby wall, face slightly red.

Before Fiorella could respond, the door swung open with a low creak and out came the Spaniard. He gave the two and odd look, but shambled by. Sorencio slipped into the room, looking as if that kind of thing happened every day.

"So now that you know the full story," Claudia smirked at Sorencio's expression. "What? You didn't think I'd notice? The rooms above my office haven't been used since Ezio was here. Two not-quite assassins banging around up there wouldn't go undetected." She smiled and shook her head.

"It was resourceful though. Well, what did you want to tell me?" The assassin's face was paler than it was before, and the bags under her eyes appeared more prominent. Helplessness tinted her voice, but her face remained impassive and calm.

"We wanted to let you know that Fiorella has found out that Toscano has been given authority to place his guards throughout the city. We're not sure when this will begin, but I'm sure that it's safe to assume that Toscano has been preparing for this and will install men as soon as he can." Sorencio said crisply. Claudia blinked then sat back down into her chair, and put her head in her hands.

"Our job shall be much harder now." She mumbled. She sat like that for a moment, then sighed heavily and looked back up to the two.

"There is a Spanish Templar official, Daniel Castillo, in town. He has documents that could prove that we are in grave danger," She looked to Fiorella. "I will be temporarily promoting you to a novice of our order because I trust you Sorencio, and so that you can call on back-up if things go wrong."

Fiorella stiffened, taken aback at the seriousness with which Claudia was taking this all. "Si signora." She mumbled, a giving a small bow.

"Sorencio, you and Fiorella will need to find him before he reaches his ship back to Spain. He should be near the north side of the Merchant's borough now. The documents will probably be in the form of a letter. It should be something from officials higher up allowing the Spanish to give an artifact to the Roman Templars. Report back to me directly when you have finished. Do you understand?" Claudia looked to them severely, but Sorencio nodded his understanding.

"Of course. We will leave immediately."

"Good. Safety and peace young ones."

The north side of the Merchant's borough was quiet as the crescent moon arose in night sky. This was the part of Roma where the wealthy merchants lived; close enough to their businesses, but displaced enough to be considered in the actual city. And it was currently also where Daniel Castillo was walking through to meet his ship. He had almost no protection; a meager two young, tried looking guards seemed to suffice. Castillo walked in front, constantly observing his surroundings, and pushing the few citizens that were in the street out of his way. Finally they came to a crossroads, and the target stopped, looking down the roads the he was now being offered. His hesitation revealed his confusion and doubt. Being Spanish he had probably never been to this part of Rome before and this particular crossroads was especially complex.

Across from where Castillo now stood perplexed was a brothel, whose tenants were leaning precariously out of its windows. Throughout the square girls loitered in groups, giggling and dancing around, calling to late night drunkards and stragglers.

Fiorella, who had been following behind Sorencio on the rooftops, openly blanched at the sight of the loose women. "He's not considering going in there, is he? Because I'm not following if he does." Fiorella murmured.

Sorencio chuckled and shook his head. "No. He just wasn't expecting a brothel in the middle of such a wealthy area, but it's filled with lonely men with money, so it really shouldn't surprise him. I actually know a few of those girls. They've worked for me a few times." He said nonchalantly. Fiorella's head snapped around to face him, a look on her face that was somewhere between incredulous and scolding.

"Calm down. It's not what you're thinking. I just paid them to get information from some of their…customers." He explained. Fiorella turned away from him, still a little unsure of his honesty.

"Well so what do we do? It's obviously a good time to strike, but keeps expecting something like this to happen, so he'd see us coming." Fiorella tried to change to the subject at hand.

"True. But don't worry. I have a plan. Follow me, and try to act as male as possible." Sorencio turned to her and pulled up her hood, hiding her face from what little light there was.

He scrambled down the face of a building and fell into a group of courtesans who were milling about in a corner. A few of them gasped and started, but he straightened up and gleamed at them, his eyes smoldering. Fiorella followed him down, but managed to land a little more smoothly.

"Ah, Maria, good to see you." He said to a brunette courtesan.

"Sorencio," She said, surprise evident in her voice. A sly smile came over her features. "What can I do for you? Is there another naughty politician who needs to be robbed of his signet ring? Or is this a personal call?" Fiorella thought she saw a blush creep over the assassin's face, but it was soon gone as a charming smile was plastered on his cheeks.

"Ah, no my darling. I was hoping for an entourage this evening, you know, to keep a gentleman company." He waggled his eyebrows, and even managed to make it look seductive.

The woman laughed and her girls followed suit. When she looked back to Sorencio, a bit of the real her managed to show through. Then her eyes changed as she noticed Fiorella.

"It seems you are not as lonely as you imply. Sorencio, have you forgotten your manners? Please, introduce me to your companion." The courtesan put her hands on her hips, leaning forward the slightly.

"Oh, him? Just a friend sent to help me on a mission. But he's not the kind who usually makes friends with women like you. He's actually quite a recluse and I only just managed to convince him to come along with me." Sorencio chuckled and slung an arm over Fiorella's shoulder as if she was just another teenage boy out for a night of fun.

"I see. Well perhaps we can change his mind once the night is through." Maria smirked and flicked out her fan, covering her smile coyly. The other girls giggled and came in a little closer to Fiorella, who tried to suppress a shudder.

"Not tonight my darling. Just an escort will do." Sorencio pulled out a reasonably sized coin purse, managing to bring the girls' attention back to him, leaving Fiorella alone. Fiorella reeled in a breath, trying not to think about what could have just happened.

"Mmm. Boring, but at least we won't have to wait around here." Maria snatched the coin purse form Sorencio's grasp and shoved it into a pouch on her hip, then turned to her girls. "Come. We have business to attend to." The girls nodded and fell into position around Sorencio and Fiorella.

Fiorella stiffened as one of the courtesans' arms settled around her shoulders. Fiorella lowered her head, hoping the increased shadows would hide her obviously female features. The harlot paid no attention to her, and instead cast her gaze to one of the many drunkards who lined the square. She fell into step behind Sorencio and waited for some signal that it was time. They turned a corner onto the street that they had been watching Castillo stroll earlier. Fiorella lifted her head minutely, scanning the road ahead of her for the Spaniard, but he was nowhere to be seen. A quickening in Sorencio's pace told her that he had noticed as well. She kept her head up slightly and continued to search the alley ways and alcoves that they passed, peering into the shadows for the man that had disappeared.

They rounded a bend in the main avenue, and they found him. He was just around the corner, standing under the awning for a blacksmith's closed shop talking ferociously to one of his so-called guards, all the while making swooping hand gestures. Sorencio almost stopped in his tracks in front of Fiorella, and she struggled to keep from running into him whilst remaining inconspicuous. Sorencio grabbed the courtesans who had been escorting him by the wrists, dragging them into a shadow by the wall. He peered around the edge and watched, waiting for the argument or scolding to subside.

Fiorella wondered why they were waiting. They could walk on by like they were minding their own business and snatch the papers while he was distracted with arguing. When the squall ended, Castillo was beet red and fuming and the now sheepish guards walked in front of him. Fiorella jolted as she realized that Sorencio had been waiting for this, and that taking the documents earlier would have required him to get uncomfortably and awkwardly close to the Spaniard, and he would definitely have noticed.

As soon as they were just far enough away, Sorencio smirked and walked on. He fumbled around in a pouch under his cloak and produced a bottle of some kind, swishing it around and slopping some of the contained liquid on his hands. He held it out and stumbled suddenly, shuffling like a professional drunkard. Fiorella raised an eyebrow, extremely amused. Sorencio walked a little faster, getting closer to the Spaniard and tumbled into him, secretly swiping the mole-skin wrapped documents. The official whipped around, alarm on his face. It morphed into disgust as he saw how 'drunk' Sorencio was. He shouted something in Spanish and shoved him away causing the assassin to stumble even more.

Sorencio smiled goofily and mumbled some excuse, the girls around him giggling all the while. He continued on like this, stumbling and hiccuping until he shuffled his way into an alley way filled with real drunks. He would go unnoticed. As soon as he was far enough into the shadows and away from the main road, he straightened up and downed a swig from the glass bottle and corked it. He spun around and whipped the excess off on his sleeve.

"Well then. Excellent job ladies. I look forward to seeing you in the future." Sorencio dismissed the harlots with a business smile and waved after them as they trotted away. He then turned his gaze to Fiorella. "We've got to get back to the den, and fast. Can you handle it?" He asked, pushing his way back out of the alley.

"Well of course I ca-," But Fiorella was cut off as Sorencio raced away and up a stack of crates onto the rooftops. She sighed and then bounced on her heels, taking off after him.

_**Well! That was interesting. Sorry I've been gone so long. But those reviews really help me to stay on track! *Hint hint wink wink nudge nudge* Have a great Holiday everyone!**_

_**~adrine R.227**_


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